


Peacock

by Narvaeril (AnnEllspethRaven), Zhie



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Adopted Children, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Behavioral Health Therapy, Blackmail, Childbirth, Cultural Differences, Dancing, Dead name, Denial, Developing Friendships, Dirty Dancing, Dominance, Drug Use, Drunk Dancing, Ear Piercings, Eating, Eating Disorders, Emotionally Intelligent Friends, Evil Ex-Lover, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Family Dynamics, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Gender Identity, Gender Roles, Genderfluid, Genderfluid Character, Hair, Homosexuality, Insightful Strangers, Intersex Character, Light Bondage, Lovers to Friends, M/M, Massage, Medicinal Drug Use, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Name Changes, Nipple Piercings, Other, Parenthood, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Drug Use, Piercings, Polyamory, Polygamy, Reconciliation With Faith, Recreational Drug Use, Religion, Religious Conflict, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Roleplay, Sexual Humor, Sexual Roleplay, Social Anxiety, Submission, Talking Animals, Talking Horse, Touch-Starved, Unbiased Spiritual Guidance, child rearing, discussion of previous rape that does not take place in this story, graphic threats of domestic sexual violence that do not actually take place, newlyweds, parenting, spirituality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:00:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 17
Words: 184,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28443564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnEllspethRaven/pseuds/Narvaeril, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zhie/pseuds/Zhie
Summary: Complex developments continue to unfold on the heels of The Cottage of Lost Gay.  Messes become messier, cracked doors open wide, and embers of old romance catch fire with no shortage of feathers flying.  Full of surprises, secrets, and sexual tension. Sometimes strangers can see what was hiding in plain sight.
Relationships: Amarië/Edrahil/Finrod Felagund | Findaráto, Angrod | Angaráto/Edhellos | Eldalótë, Erestor/Fingon | Findekáno, Erestor/Fingon | Findekáno/Gildor Inglorion/Glorfindel/Maedhros | Maitimo, Erestor/Fingon | Findekáno/Glorfindel, Erestor/Gildor Inglorion, Erestor/Glorfindel (Tolkien), Erestor/Maedhros | Maitimo, Fingon | Findekáno/Glorfindel, Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo, Fëanor | Curufinwë/Nerdanel, Gildor Inglorion/Maedhros | Maitimo, Glorfindel/Gildor Inglorion
Comments: 19
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [Bunniverse, Fifth Age]

“I think we should celebrate,” suggested Gildor. It was late afternoon. The morning had been spent cleaning guest rooms, putting away linens, wiping down surfaces, and playing knife-paper-rock on who got to clean up the vomit hidden behind the umbrella stand in the foyer. Previously, the Cottage of Lost Play had been the site of the wedding between Maedhros and Fingon, and just the evening prior the marriage had been consummated. While they were left to sleep in, the clamour of the other occupants of the house trying their best to clean and be quiet while guests who had stayed with them packed up and shuffled away was an utter failure, and soon enough Maedhros and Fingon were helping to put the house back in order. Elrond and Celebrían had helped as well, though they had left an hour earlier to have lunch and meet with some friends. They also had plans to take the afternoon ferry back to the mainland, on account of not wanting to leave their house unattended for too long. While Beleg and Túrin were also staying at the Cottage, both had gone off to hunt before daybreak, and had yet to return.

Maedhros, who had the unfortunate luck of losing the contest, looked up from where he was scrubbing the floor of any remaining vile evidence. “What are we celebrating? The fact you are not the one wearing gloves to his elbows with enough time on the floor to determine the flavor of puke being cleaned up?”

“Puke should not have flavors,” voiced Fingon, who looked ready to vomit at the thought.

“Scent. Odor. Whatever.” Maedhros threw the rag into a bucket and it slapped the bottom. “What are we celebrating?” 

“The glorious union of–stop glaring at me like that, you lost fair and square,” pouted Gildor.

“Fine. Go ahead,” Maedhros suggested.

“I wish for us to celebrate–wait for it–the glorious union of Maedhros and Fingon.” Gildor grinned. “See what I did there?”

“Uh-huh.” Maedhros stood up. “And where shall this celebration take place?”

“A surprise!” Gildor’s eyes twinkled.

Asfaloth, who was passing by with a heap of linens, stopped. “I thought you said you wanted to get everyone to go to the Prancy Fancy Peacock Place,” he said.

Gildor’s smile fell a little. “Maybe...or maybe...maybe a different place.”

Asfaloth’s brow furrowed. “I thought you said you already made reservations.”

Gildor’s gaze shifted to the horse. “There are fresh sugar cubes in the third cabinet above the counter.”

Asfaloth trotted out to the kitchen gleefully.

Fingon frowned, pointing at the retreating form of Asfaloth. “The horse does not have the artifice to keep secrets very well. I detect a mystery. Do tell.” 

Gildor crossed his arms over his chest. “And who will make me?”

With a snap of his fingers, Fingon pointed over at Maedhros, and then to Gildor. Maedhros shrugged as he pulled his gloves off, brow arched, and dumped them into the bucket to join the rag. He sidled up to Gildor, deliberately blowing a soft stream of air into his ear and bending down just enough to ghost his tongue along the cartilage edge. “The King asked you a question,” purred Maedhros.

“So persuasive, your majesty.” Gildor stepped over and wrapped an arm around Fingon. “I thought it would be nice if we had our own little celebration out on the town. Asfaloth offered to stay here and keep track of our guests as they arrive back.”

“Ah. That sounds quite nice, at least if none of the guests have mares in season. I liked it there, just not last time when I had a splitting headache. Which reminds me. Who will watch Eruglar?” asked Fingon.

“I thought he could come with us,” said Gildor. “He is part of the family, too.”

Maedhros arched a brow. “Are you sure that is wise?”

“We took him there before,” Gildor reminded Maedhros.

“Sure. On the weekend.” Maedhros stood up. “I know the lunch crowd is fairly tame, but we are approaching the later hours.”

“True…” Gildor bit his lip. To his credit, he did not consider past a few seconds. “Then I shall remain home with him, and you four please enjoy a lovely meal. He and I will celebrate in our own way; we can cook a special sweet to enjoy with each other. I am a father now, and must think as one. I just might need a nudge from time to time,” he admitted.

“In that case, the three of you can go,” said Fingon to Maedhros. “I still have a dozen rooms to sweep upstairs.” He picked up an empty waste basket and a broom and hurried up the stairs. 

Glorfindel came through from the kitchen with a bin he had filled for the compost pile. “Did someone mention lunch? We might want to find somewhere else to eat. We are lacking in clean dishes.”

Maedhros frowned. “Fingon! You are not scuttling off! I am solving this entire problem by going to the Peacock with Asfaloth to purchase food and return here. In the meantime I expect that someone will manage to clean five dishes. Do not think you will avoid celebrating!!” Maedhros insisted loudly to the staircase.

Just as quickly as he had disappeared, Fingon reappeared. He pointed a long finger at Maedhros and scoldingly said, “Do not dare! The food there is hardly worth the ride and cost. One pays for the experience, not the food! By the time you get back the food will be cold and soggy anyhow. If you are going out, then go to the small market nearby and buy something from there. It will cost less and probably taste better. Also, we need cow’s milk and twine, so you could pick those up, too,” he added before taking himself back up the stairway.

“I will do everything you wish if you will but go with me!” Maedhros demanded. “I am not familiar with the correct stalls and I do not wish to waste my time blundering about like a fool,” he shouted. Then, in a more civil tone of voice: “Please? Husband? Teach me?”

There was the sound of bristles brushing the floor. They slowed, and then stopped. Fingon came back down the stairway and held onto the banister. “We could also just stay here and eat out of the garden and finish cleaning the house faster.”

Maedhros looked down, shuffling one foot. He wanted badly to ask Fingon to pick the produce with him but knew it was hardly what his lover preferred. “Alright. I will procure whatever is out there, if that is what is wanted. And I can make twine, if there is any fiber suited to it. It is just like small rope.”

“I was thinking more like a picnic,” explained Fingon. “I am sure we can find fiber enough for you to use, too.”

“Oh,” Maedhros said.

“What can we do?” Glorfindel interjected, sensing that Maedhros needed rescuing somehow. “We should prepare before we are all far too hungry. Plus, it will not do for Eruglar to wait too long for his meal. Children need a schedule. We all will have to agree on hours for mealtimes, just as I am certain all of us did as parents long ago.”

“Most parents do rely on a schedule,” Maedhros responded, keeping a straight face.

“My children turned out fine, thank you,” answered Fingon in a firm tone.

“Jelly sandwiches and tea after midnight just seemed unconventional,” muttered Maedhros.

“They loved it,” countered Fingon as he leaned over the banister. “Besides, it kept them quiet in the morning.”

“Because they slept until noon,” blurted out Maedhros. Fingon scowled. Maedhros turned to Gildor. “For now, it is probably best you continue to...keep us updated on your plans.”

“And...not take advice from Fingon?” guessed Gildor sweetly. Fingon snorted and crossed his arms over his chest.

Glorfindel quickly came to Fingon’s side. “I know it is hard, but I would do whatever you want if you would support their parenting decisions.” The sincerity, innocence–and the note that hinted of endless naughty possibilities in those words–captured Fingon all at once. “Anything,” Glorfindel repeated, gazing pleadingly into the golden eyes when he was not kissing the back of his husband’s hand. “Please, love?”

It was not Fingon who replied, but Erestor, who had also been upstairs, and came down after Fingon continuously began to sweep and then disappeared. “I have no idea what we are talking about, but I will have whatever he is offering,” Erestor said with a nod in Glorfindel’s direction.

“Ress! It is supposed to be that you are offering what I am offering, because Eruglar needs regular mealtimes.” Glorfindel paused in his adoration of Fingon’s hand, and now turned the same devastatingly appealing eyes toward Erestor.

“Yes. Eruglar should have regular mealtimes, and regular snack times, and regular bedtimes.” Erestor touched Fingon’s other arm. “And so should you, honestly. Have you eaten yet today?”

Suddenly caught off-guard, Fingon gripped the banister. “There is work to be done. I can eat later.”

“I thought we had a reservation at the Peacock.” Erestor looked at Gildor for confirmation.

“Uh, plans seem to have changed. I had thought Eruglar could go with us, but there was mention of potential unseemliness so it seems I must watch my son at home, and Fingon said no take-out, so here we are,” tumbled from Gildor’s lips.

“Why no take-out?” asked Erestor, hands on his hips.

Fingon mumbled something about expenses.

“If that is your worry, I just earned a raise,” Erestor reminded all of them. “This is my treat. We can go out, and bring back something for Gildor and Eruglar,” suggested Erestor. He rubbed Fingon’s arm. “Would you find that acceptable?”

Fingon shrugged.

Erestor directed Fingon back from the banister so that he was against the wall and placed himself squarely in front of Fingon, lightly holding his waist. “Sweetheart, when you and I wed we had no particular celebration. When you and Glorfindel wed, we had no particular celebration. Yes, we had a beautiful wedding here for you and Mae, but there was more than that. I have had precious few things in my life that were truly special, and in some ways this means more to me than all the previous ones. I…” Moisture formed on Erestor’s lashes, and he stopped speaking to regain his full composure. “This is important to me. Please?”

Glorfindel and Gildor made eye contact. This seemed all the more uncomfortable because Erestor was not trying to have it his own way. He meant it. Glorfindel appeared a moment later beside Fingon and lazily played with his hair. “You realize you are supposed to be observing your honeymoon, right, baby? Elrond told you not to work too hard, and you have been cleaning for hours. Sure, this is all a little unconventional, but we do live on a vacation island. We might as well take advantage of what we do have.”

Maedhros walked to the banister and leaned his chin on it. “Please? Do not make me hoist you over my shoulder and carry you all the way there. Because I can and I will,” declared Maedhros.

Outnumbered three to one, Fingon nodded slightly. “I am a little hungry,” he admitted.

“Thank you,” Erestor told him sincerely, wiping at his eyes quickly. “When do we leave? Now?”

“We should wash up before we go, but yes, then we should leave. I do not know how long they will hold the reservation,” said Glorfindel.

Erestor was on the second step leading to their bedroom before he remembered to say “I am getting ready.”

Glorfindel smiled. “What will my lover wear?” he asked Fingon shyly, tracing a finger down his breastbone. “I hope I might walk in there with you escorting me. I would really like that. Earlier I found nice clothes so that I would...I thought they would please you.”

“I know what I want him to wear,” opined Maedhros, still gazing at them from the banister. “We talked about it earlier today,” hinted Maedhros.

Fingon blushed, the red particularly prominent over his nose. “That was if we were staying here. I...I doubt I am ready for that in public.”

“It would be under other clothing, though,” encouraged Maedhros. “No one would know except us. You managed it so beautifully at the wedding,” Maedhros reminded him.

“Ohhhhhh,” Glorfindel said with bright and eager eyes. “That...that would be so sexy. Can we both wear one? Only we would know.” 

Gildor’s eyebrows arched with interest. To refuse Glorfindel’s plea would require a staunch disposition indeed.

“B-both of us?” Fingon swallowed hard. “I mean...if...if you want...I…”

“I will go retrieve them!” Maedhros ran up the stairs past them, taking them two at a time.

“I...uhm...alright,” Fingon whispered.

Glorfindel tore up the stairs, chattering excitedly. The two things that were understandable to those below were ‘leather’ and ‘pink brocade.’ The slamming of their bedroom door rattled a loose windowpane.

“I hope he chooses the brocade,” Gildor remarked to a still nervous Fingon. “Pink was always a good color on him.”

Within the hour, the four were assembled outside and ready to ride to town. They opted to use the carriage, since it would only require two horses and not four. It also made Fingon feel less self-conscious about the clothing he was wearing. While it outwardly appeared he had donned a pair of tight brown leather pants with matching high leather boots and a loose linen shirt, his companions all knew that beneath the shirt was a tightly laced leather corset that hugged his body. He fingered the jewelry Maedhros convinced him to wear--a simple gold chain with a red gem hanging at the center. Despite the claims from the tonsor that braiding would not work well with the hairstyle Fingon was currently sporting, Maedhros had managed a few braids to make a crown. Instead of the golden threads that Fingon liked to weave in his hair, Maedhros had used red ribbons to match the stone of the necklace. Red and gold powders were used to adorn Fingon’s eyes, and thick black liner to make them appear that much larger. “I suppose we shall be there during a lull in service. It should not be very crowded,” he said with a hopeful note to his voice as the carriage began to move.

Behind and above the newlyweds tending to the driving of the carriage sat Erestor and Glorfindel. The former wore black except for a blue, loose fitting shirt that showed through his vest. In a continued show of modesty and fidelity, he wore a black scarf that covered his hair, though the fabric was thin and he arranged it differently than before, having spoken to Inarata during the wedding about the meaning of how the garment was placed. It served now as both head covering and partial veil, for as one who was married, it was the cultural preference for the groups most prominent on Tol Eressea, and Erestor was grateful for her guidance. 

His golden husband was on display as an enviably glorious creature. A stunning silk tunic in blending shades of rose pink flowed over sandy colored leggings. Pale tan boots with decorative edging completed the necessary clothing. His tasteful scarf coordinating all the colors graced his neck; golden hair had been brushed to a lustrous sheen. Happily, he held Erestor’s hand while he enjoyed their carriage ride.

“You might not want to be out and about when others are around, but I must admit my desire to have others see you,” remarked Maedhros, who had opted to wear his hair loose with a few jeweled and feathered adornments here and there wrapped around random locks. His tunic was a brilliant red with copper and brown embroidery. His leggings were copper colored, and his boots brown, though they were not as high up the calf as Fingon’s were. Maedhros was most bejeweled of them all, and it was undoubtedly in part due to Gildor’s assistance in readying him. Neither of them were yet used to Maedhros being able to capably do things with both hands again. Maedhros reached over and ran a hand through Fingon’s loose hair. “I want to show you off, and I want people to see your beauty, and I want them to know you are mine. Ours,” he correctly almost immediately as he glanced over his shoulder.

“Fear not, Mae,” Glorfindel chuckled. “We had the same problem. Mine, ours, in the end we realized that we mean both words at the same time. I speak confidently that we will take no offense. If anything, possessiveness is more than a little arousing. Do you not think?”

Erestor did not speak, but underneath the fabric of his veil his smile revealed his mind.

The ride to the Peacock was uneventful, and indeed when they arrived, there was a reservation for them. “Just in time, cousins,” said the hostess as she led them into the main room, in which most of the tables were full. “We were almost about to give your table away.”

Fingon nervously gripped the table as he sat down. “This looks a lot more crowded than I have seen it before,” he whispered.

“The sign out front said that there is a dance contest this afternoon. I have a feeling that is why there are so many people here,” explained Maedhros as he shuffled the menus out to everyone.

Glorfindel felt an instant and intense desire to plead with Fingon over the dancing, but stilled his impulse. He could see that his husband was uneasy to be here though he did not precisely understand the reason. Looking over the menu, he tried to recall the last time he had eaten away from home without a market stall being involved. It had been awhile, and his hand reached to squeeze Erestor’s knee in gratitude. There were even steaks available; fine cuts of the special beef cattle bred to thrive in the island’s climate...his eyes darted nervously toward Erestor in indecision. 

_ Order what you would like to eat, Fin. I am glad to do this for you. For all of us. I am extremely content.  _ Erestor’s hand covered Glorfindel’s in reassurance.

“May I order for you?” asked Maedhros as he looked at Fingon.

Fingon looked up from the menu. “Because otherwise I am prone to reading all of it and not wanting any of it?”

“Something like that. Do you trust me?” Maedhros asked as he set the menu down and flagged over a server.

“I want a beer,” Fingon said as he set the menu card down on the table. “I trust you with the rest.”

As soon as the server approached the table, Maedhros inclined his head in Fingon’s direction and said, “He will have the bacon-wrapped shrimp with potato pancakes and honey glazed carrots. He will also have a pint of whichever lager you have tapped. I will have the leg of lamb with cream of cauliflower soup. Just water for me--a glass of water for everyone, I think, beyond whatever they are all drinking.” Maedhros looked at the other pair to show he was done.

Erestor allowed his veil to move back enough so that he was not shrouded from view. “My companion will have the beef medallions with the garlic mashed potatoes and green beans. I would like the vegetable galette with cheese, and we would all like to share a small basket of your green onion bread. Also, we will be sharing a scorpion bowl.”

The server smiled. “Right away, sir. Would you gentlemen prefer your drinks be served now, or with your meal?”

“Drinks now,” Fingon answered immediately.

“In that case, maybe I should order a lemonade,” Maedhros said. The server nodded and made haste to retrieve the drinks. “A scorpion bowl, eh?” asked Maedhros. “I remember when I would finish those on my own.”

“Oh, dear,” Erestor smiled. “Then again, who am I fooling? The only difference between you and I when it came to alcohol in our pasts was that most people would bet on you to be still upright by the time I was on the floor. Though...I cannot say who would have won any such contest.”

“What is a scorpion bowl?” Glorfindel asked, once again reminded of his lack of sophistication. “I mean, besides an alcoholic beverage.”

Erestor took his hand and kissed it. “A drink as beautiful, sweet, exotic and intoxicating as you, Fin. I thought of it when I could not keep my eyes away from you. All of you look so very attractive tonight. I just thought that Glorfindel looked especially radiant. I wondered if I might dance with you, Fin, though I fear I would not be able to keep my veil in place,” Erestor sighed. His eyes were still fixed on his blond husband.

“Perhaps there will be some courtly dancing,” said Fingon as the drinks were set down upon the table. “Something that will not be overly taxing.”

“There will be all sorts of dancing happening today, but the contest begins in about an hour,” said the server. “Will any of you be competing? You must make sure to sign up at the hostess booth at least ten minutes before the contest if you are.”

“I…” Glorfindel began, but he was stunned into silence at the appearance of their drink and could only stare. A paper umbrella at a rakish angle rose from the bowl, as well as two straws. Four spears of fresh fruit were strategically placed amidst several orchid blossoms. If that was not enough, the server had just lit a skewer, and touched it to a hollowed out half-lime. In the dim light, the burning alcohol floated eerily on top of the colorful display. The server swiftly withdrew in order to see to the needs of a nearby table. “Does it just keep burning?”

“I am having flashbacks of Losgar,” admitted Maedhros.

“Same.” Fingon lifted his mug and drank deeply. “It looks pretty. I think I am going to stick with my beer.”

Uncertain if Maedhros was in earnest or not, Erestor used one of the fruit skewers to drown the lime, dousing the flame. Grasping a straw with his lips, Erestor sampled the drink while prettily batting his eyes at Glorfindel. Hint taken, the blond beauty sampled it. “Oh! That is nice. That is very...I am really going to want to dance now,” he grinned. By the time his half was consumed he doubted that shyness would be possible. “It seems we have a while. If, that is, all of you are willing to do this. I do not want to dictate that we stay longer than planned.”

“I want to see the two of you dance,” announced Maedhros bluntly, and he pointed between Fingon and Glorfindel so there was no mistake in who he was referring to. “I appoint myself and Erestor as your coaches and cheer team.”

“Oh, really?” asked Fingon. He was over half done with his beer and waved over the server again. “I need another of these,” he told her, “and I need a shot.”

“What kind?”

“Surprise me.”

She nodded and left. Maedhros raised a brow, but said nothing as he nursed his lemonade. Fingon lifted his mug but did not yet drink. He lifted both brows at Maedhros, who repeated what Fingon had said. “Surprise me?”

“Sure. Surprises have abounded as of late. I might as well see where they lead,” he said.

“I like that attitude.” Maedhros clinked his glass of lemonade against Fingon’s mug. “To the return of my adventurous kitten,” he said cheerfully before he drank.

Flushed with excitement, Glorfindel eagerly sipped the impressive concoction before him–but not too quickly. He wished to be relaxed but in full possession of his faculties. Erestor, perceiving his mate’s mind and appreciating Maedhros’ initiative, decided to do one better. “Pardon me for a few moments.” Grasping the front of his veil, he held it securely while rising. Unintentionally, Erestor’s hips swayed with a nearly feminine grace as he walked away. Only Glorfindel had a view of it, and believed that this was going to be a superlative outing.

“Sweetie, how is your head feeling?” Glorfindel asked Fingon, wishing to ensure that no headaches or similar ills were discomfiting his husband. So badly had he wished this evening to go well that he was in possession of a small packet of medication–just in case. Reaching across the table, he touched Fingon’s hand with three questing fingers, unable to entirely stifle his eager anticipation of the promised fun.

“Surprisingly clear,” answered Fingon. His second pint showed up, along with a shot glass containing slightly green tinted liquid. “What is this?” he asked as he picked up the glass.

“A surprise,” the server answered. She smiled as he cocked his head to the side. “This one is called ‘snakebite’. Enjoy.”

Fingon lifted the glass, and before he could overthink it, downed it in one gulp. “Whoa. Damn!” He coughed slightly. “I think that was almost entirely whiskey.”

“I could have told you that,” said Maedhros with a grin.

The server took the empty glass back. “Anything else I can get you?”

Maedhros crossed his arms over his chest. “Not for me. Depends on whether he wants any more surprises.”

“He will have a surprise!” Glorfindel exclaimed without meaning to. “I mean, sweetie, did you want another drink?” A fetching pink spread across his cheeks while he smiled at the server.

“My adoring blond husband thinks I need another surprise,” said Fingon as he looked up at the server. “And how can I possibly say no to that face?”

“How indeed. Another surprise, coming right up.” She practically skipped to the bar.

Glorfindel was succeeding at increasing his appeal though none of it was intended. Fortunately Erestor chose that moment to return, leaning down to brush his lips across Glorfindel’s cheek. “You are a feast for my eyes right now,” Erestor purred. “You have no awareness of your beauty. You are a siren, Fin, and I am the mariner who shall crash upon your shoreline.”

Maedhros cleared his throat. “Eressë, we are not going to make it through the evening without stained trousers if you keep on like that.”

“I wore black,” Erestor retorted smugly.

“You missed the first round,” Fingon told Erestor. “On Glorfindel’s recommendation, I am attempting a second.” He began to lift his mug, but the server was almost too happily at the table again. This time, she had two shot glasses. “Double surprise?” questioned Fingon.

“No, no, this all goes together. You drink this one first, and then that one.” She lined up the shots and grinned.

Fingon smiled back. “You seem to be enjoying this.”

“The bartender said no one has ever ordered one of these before, so he wanted to see what your reaction was.”

Fingon cleared his throat and moved the pint aside. “This one first?” he clarified, and the server nodded. He picked up a glass in each hand, let out a little puff of air--for his stomach was still pondering the first shot--and in quick succession drank them both. He shook his head after the second glass and simply looked at the server. “And that was…?”

“The zoo,” she said proudly.

“Holy fuck, it sure was. What was even in that?”

“Literally everything,” she answered. “Followed by a shot of beer.”

“I do not suppose we might have our bread ahead of our meal? Or any bread at all?” Erestor’s pointed question to the server left little doubt what was on his mind. Namely, that a vomiting Fingon would not aid the enjoyment of their dinner.

“Yes. I find that I am terribly hungry. Even breadsticks would be lovely,” Maedhros added.

Glorfindel sipped again at their drink, finding that he liked it almost too much.

“Oh, they should have had that and the nuts on the table--my apologies; we have been terribly busy.” She looked in askance to Fingon, who rubbed his chin and held up a single finger. She grinned and headed off.

“I feel I should jump in now and make sure the kitten does not get a stomachache,” said Maedhros.

“Last one,” promised Fingon. He turned in his seat to watch what was happening at the bar. “She better not bring something worse than the zoo,” he added.

Erestor narrowed his eyes but elected to let Maedhros handle it. Just now, rubbing noses with Glorfindel while drinking their shared ambrosia held much more appeal. It also seemed a sort of poetic justice that Maedhros be left to deal with someone intent on drinking everything in the bar much as he once had done himself.

When the server came back, she first deposited a bowl of breadsticks and crackers on the table. Next was the bread that Erestor ordered, covered with a warm cloth to keep the bread soft. Then a heaping bowl of mixed nuts. Finally, she stepped over to Fingon. “This one requires a friend.” She set the clear shot glass down in front of him. Beside this she placed a bowl of sugar, and a small plate with wedges of lemon. “The friend of your choice holds the lemon wedge in their mouth. You lick their neck, put sugar on it, suck the sugar off their neck, take the shot, and follow it with the squeeze of lemon from their mouth. Kissing is optional,” she added.

Fingon’s gaze darted around, for they were gaining an audience from the patrons at nearby tables, what with how frequently the server was back and forth to their table from the bar. Poking his finger into the sugar bowl, unable to think of a graceful way out of the situation he found himself in, Fingon asked, “Do I have a volunteer?”

“Of course you do,” Erestor immediately responded. With a squeeze to Glorfindel’s shoulder, he changed his seating position to straddling Fingon’s lap–in as chaste a manner as possible. Provocatively, he turned his head and retracted his veil. The length of his elegant neck was revealed, along with some of the glossy locks of his black hair. He ignored the envious stares from nearby diners, assured that what was being done was not for their benefit.

“Sweet Eru, Eres, I thought you would be the last one to agree to this,” whispered Fingon, lips against the veil as he kissed Erestor’s ear through it. Fingon set the glass closer, then leaned in and gave Erestor’s throat a long lick, from the divot of his neck up to his chin. He sprinkled a pinch of sugar over the moist skin, and then, with longing in his eyes, licked the length of Erestor’s throat again. Fingon threw back the shot, grabbing hastily for the lemon to offer it to Erestor so that it would be there when he finished the drink.

With ease, Erestor flipped the lemon into position and held it firmly with his teeth, awaiting Fingon’s advance. He supported his balance by holding his husband’s ribs, prepared to deliver more than was expected of him.

While listening to some light laughter and applause around them, Fingon was able to get the hint of lemon at the end before he maneuvered the slice under his own tongue with dexterity that would have impressed Gildor before his tongue sought out the deep and inviting cavern of Erestor’s mouth. They kissed impossibly long, and when they finished, Fingon flicked his tongue along Erestor’s throat to lick the remaining sugar.

“Well, I will leave this here for you,” said the server as she pushed the sugar bowl to the center with the rest of the food. She picked up the glass and said, “If you were having another, I would bring you ‘Sex on the Beach’ to finish it off.”

“I think ‘Sex on top of this table’ would be a more accurate direction,” teased Fingon back.

“Not on the table here,” scolded the server. “We have private rooms for that.” And that was all she said as she left.

Fingon blinked. “Private rooms.” His gaze flitted to Maedhros. “They have private rooms.”

“Uh-huh. For sex, probably, from what she just said.” Maedhros sipped his lemonade. “And I just conveyed to Gildor that we are not bringing Eruglar back here until that boy reaches his majority.”

“Maybe later,” Erestor told Fingon, booping him on the nose before rising. “Do you remember, Káno? You and I, hiding from Faelion in the lavatory of that seedy establishment while Gildor spoke with him? I think you might have bonded with me then and there, had I lowered my trousers for you. Except, I would not.”

“Because the floor was sticky…” Fingon recalled.

“Exactly. I shall inspect these private rooms, and determine what they are like. If they are clean and well-kept, you may have me on my hands and knees or any other position of your choosing. If they are not?” Erestor shrugged. “Then your lust must endure until we have the sanctuary of our home.”

Fingon swallowed hard. “Then I hope for the former, because I am not going to last until we get home,” he said in a low voice, and had Erestor still been seated, he would have known exactly how true that statement was.

“I hope you can save a little of that for me,” Maedhros said with a smile as he poked Fingon’s shoulder. “This is our honeymoon, after all.”

“More than enough to go around,” Fingon said quite seriously as he tried to use one of the linen napkins to hide the strain of his already tight trousers. He opted to shift his chair so that he was covered by the table instead. “I am nothing if not a generous king.”

“Glorfindel is off to gather intelligence for the benefit of His Majesty’s needs,” the blond announced, feeling pleasantly at one with the world. So much so, that he felt a temporary parting from the liquid source of his contentment was in order. Guessing as to the likely direction of these ‘private rooms,’ he disappeared to make unobtrusive inquiries of the staff.

A lanky lad with sparkly green hair and a disposition that could rival Gildor approached their table. He wore both tight leggings and an open gown fastened only at the waist so that it was like a tail sweeping behind him, and his clothing was shades of blue, green, and indigo, very much a personified peacock. “So, my lovelies, here are your numbers for the dance,” he said as he set down two pairs of paper tags with numbers onto the table with pins to attach them to clothing. “No pouting if you do not win--no one likes a lonely loser. I want you all to be belles of the ball,” he drawled. “Especially you, tall, dark, and really tall,” he said with a wink to Maedhros.

“Why are there tags for four people?” Maedhros asked, not understanding.

“Because I want you to do me the honor of being my partner,” Erestor answered. “I insist, just as I insist that you will not regret it.” The sultry chocolate eyes peered enticingly from under the veil, weaving their charms upon Maedhros. To emphasize his point, Erestor selected a breadstick and began nibbling on it in a generally suggestive manner.

“Saucy,” complimented the green-haired gentle-elf before he walked to the next table with a slap of his own ass.

“Wait. If the two of you are partnered, and there are...oh, I should have stopped after one surprise,” realized Fingon. He bit his lip.

“Worried you will not manage to stay upright?” wondered Maedhros.

“Worried I will not keep my hands in the appropriate places,” countered Fingon.

“In an establishment such as this, why is that a worry?” Erestor queried. “I know how lithe you are. And flexible, and–this reminds me. I want us to have fun, but I do not want the wrath of Elrond upon us. Do we have a chance of returning home and not needing medical intervention? I do so hate it when the eyebrow has to become involved.”

Fingon raised his hand in full Feanorian oath fashion and said solemnly, “I promise not to exceed my abilities or those of my dance partner, and shall not require medical attention when all is over.”

“The rooms are really nice,” Glorfindel announced quietly as he plunked down again, his curls bobbing. “The fee for them is...not cheap but not extravagant. It was explained to me that the house makes only a fifteen percent profit; the rest of the monies are for the professional laundry service they use plus housekeeping. The rooms are inspected after each...use, and thoroughly cleaned daily. Each guest using the rooms is issued a thick clean sheet as well as a set of towels. There is water and soap in the rooms for cleansing and for a very nominal charge, vials of oil. It is expected that the room is left as it is found, and soiled linens are placed in a provided receptacle. Rates are by the half-hour.”

“Or, you can do what most people do,” whispered the peacocked-person as he came back by with a list of the songs for the event and set it on the table, “and lock yourself in a stall in the restroom. They do have ample room, in a pinch. I should know,” he said, with a wink to Glorfindel this time before he slid away again.

“I have no idea who that is, but if he does not know Gildor, I will be surprised,” said Fingon as he pulled the sheet closer. “So...each couple picks two of the eight dances for competition, and then the top two couples from each dance perform in the final number.”

“That seems simple enough,” Erestor approved, his attention directed on Fingon. “And as for the other...the sanctity of my feelings for you do not allow me the luxury of a hard fuck over a toilet bowl, but a promise is a promise. I will take the room for a half hour for the four of us, after our meal but before the contest. Which if any of you choose to join me will be up to you.”

Fingon waved at his crotch and said, “I made him go away already. Maybe after? Anyhow, it would not have been the first time I danced with an erection.”

Glorfindel choked on a breadcrumb, and Erestor obligingly patted his back while continuing. “As for the dance...will you allow me to lead, Maedhros? I am also able to dance in the style of the Haradhrim, if you would prefer to be the center of my worshipful attention. Your choice, of course.”

“I would be honored,” said Maedhros. He then looked at Fingon, who was busily studying the list. “Him? Does he have a name?”

Without looking up, Fingon said, “I am disappointed in you that you do not recall that tidbit of information.”

Maedhros furrowed his brow. “Shit. You did tell me this once…” He looked across the table at Glorfindel and Erestor for assistance.

“I...uh… ‘Little Káno’ probably is not right,” Glorfindel struggled. “Neither probably is ‘big boy,’ ‘Master of Ceremonies,’ or…” he bit his lip, frowning. “Ress? You were with him longer?”

“Master of Ceremonies is cute, but not it. I like that though,” Fingon said, a smile playing his lips as he glanced up from the sheet to Erestor and then back down again. “Your turn.”

Erestor stared blankly at Fingon, feeling like this was an examination he was about to fail. “It could be… ‘His Majesty’s Scepter?’ or perhaps...no, wait, I am almost certain there was something…”

“His Lordly Rod?” Glorfindel tried again timidly, staring at Erestor helplessly before turning to Maedhros and Fingon. “Sorry,” he added meekly.

“No, those are too good. This was something really dumb.” Maedhros tried to swallow the word, but failed, and Fingon was suddenly staring at him, awkwardly close. “I meant simple.”

Fingon showcased the eyebrow of doom.

“Oh, huh, that is a family trait. Never saw that from you before, though. You, Elrond, Ereinion...does your father do that, too?” Maedhros poked playfully at Fingon’s thick, knitted eyebrows.

Just then the server appeared bearing a massive platter of dishes, setting it carefully upon the tableside tray stand. “For you, sir, the beef medallions.” Glorfindel and Erestor hastened to move their beverage to a safe location, as their plates were served in turn. 

Maedhros smirked, being the recipient of a very favorable interruption. “How are those large, plump, juicy bacon-wrapped prawns?” he drawled at Fingon.

“Not sure yet.” Fingon waited until everyone had food in front of them, and then folded his hands in anticipation of Erestor’s prayer over the meal. This was done with expediency, after which Fingon cut a small chunk from the nearest shrimp. “They are good,” he noted, and then he became distracted by the song list again.

“What has your attention, sweetheart?” Glorfindel asked, savoring the first bite of the succulent beef. He was determined to consume it slowly, so that he could enjoy it for as long as possible. “Do you dislike the musical selections?”

“Well...I like the music, but not as pieces to dance to.” Fingon slid the paper to Glorfindel. “Half of these should be choreographed ahead of time. The other half are...boring. Like the name for my penis,” he added with a pointed look at Maedhros.

“Never living that down,” he said with a sigh.

“Nope,” said Fingon.

Erestor and Glorfindel simply stopped, their heads turning as one to regard Maedhros as though he were a new species of animal, or a heretofore undiscovered oddity. Glorfindel even stopped chewing his meat. After an uncomfortable pause, Erestor cleared his throat. “Well. Clearly times have changed, because it is anything but boring now. In fact I would say it is the most celebrated prize under the Cottage’s roof...along with the elf to whom it is attached.”

Maedhros suddenly snapped his fingers, as if something had jogged his memory and the word came to him all at once. “Celebration,” he announced happily, and Fingon only smirked. “You called it that because you said it was ‘celebration time’ any time we were alone long enough for me to get to see it.” Maedhros preened proudly as Fingon chuckled to himself as he recalled some hint of a memory of ages long past.

“That sounds  _ much _ better,” Glorfindel noted. “I mean, I celebrate whenever I get to–”

“We know, Fin,” Erestor chided gently. “And we love you for it. May I sample a small bite of your mashed potatoes? I feel as though I am making an extensive study of them.”

A fork was brought to Erestor’s lips with the requested food. “Anything for you, darling.”

The bite was sampled much as a connoisseur would examine a fine wine. “Hm. My. I think they used the Eldamar Red variety of garlic. Inarata told me to pay more attention to how my mouth and nose feels; that is how she taught me to tell it apart from the milder strain. The texture is excellent. Clearly they have mastered the technique of blending the milk and butter in with the potatoes at temperature.”

“I am really proud of you, Ress,” Glorfindel praised. “I always hoped your brilliance would win out in the end. I just feel terrible that I was useless to you in reaching that goal.”

“Do not worry, Fin,” Erestor smiled. “Something worked out in the end. Now. About these dances. If the music is unstructured then perhaps we should be as well. You have all the advantage, Fingon. I have never met anyone who can be led in dance as Glorfindel can. Even without those to whom he has a thought-connection, he is remarkable.”

“I know, I know, but…” Fingon pushed his food around his plate. “My techniques are based on practice and familiarity. I am not as good as you might think when it is freeform and unscripted.”

“Oh sweetie, yes you are. When you make love to me, it is dance. You are sinuous, controlled, virile. We will not be fucking up there but I guarantee you that the room will wish we were. You will see. I will move with you and around you, molded so tightly there will not be a finger’s space between us.”

Erestor sighed in envy, but also considered that he could and probably would do much the same with Maedhros. If he was the more skilled dancer it was his task to elevate his partner to the best of his abilities.

“Or, what about, just have fun, Finya?” Maedhros placed a hand on Fingon’s knee. “I know you like winning, but pretend this is just for fun, no contest.”

“But it is a contest.”

“I--yes, we know. But pretend...where is my kitten? Kittens do not give two fucks about a contest. They already assume they are best, and if someone else wins, that means everyone else cheated.” Maedhros stroked a finger under Fingon’s chin a few times until he received a faint purring noise. “Just have fun with this, Finya. Our prize will be half an hour in the private room when this is all done.”

“Begging for your attentions to our needful bodies,” Glorfindel whispered in his best smoldering voice. “So gooood,” he crooned. “The dancing is foreplay.”

“I can get behind that,” admitted Fingon as the peacockified elf brought two cards and a quill to the table.

“And I could get behind ALL of you, sweetheart,” he crooned as he handed the quill to Erestor. “We need the names of your teams, darlings! Please drop the cards off at the hostess booth within the next ten minutes along with the two selections you will be dancing to!”

“Could we be the King and his Fool?” Glorfindel asked, having ideas for different emotional themes.

“I rather like the idea of Master and Servant,” Erestor said boldy. Something about this...perhaps there was a means, here, to exorcise another of his personal and long buried demons. “If Mae would be comfortable in the role of Master, that is?”

“If he will not, I will,” the green-haired man said, voice dripping with promise as he sized up Erestor. “You can be anything you want, my pretties, just make sure you get your cards to the hostess.” He leaned in and hissed at them, “But I really adore ‘Master and Servant’... gives me goosebumps right here,” he said pointing unabashedly at his crotch before he sauntered away.

“I would rather not use the word ‘king’ in the name,” Fingon said very quietly. He set down his fork, which had been of little use anyhow, and pushed the plate toward the collection of bread and nuts.

Maedhros looked like he was going to say something to Fingon, but he looked at Erestor and said in his low rumble of a voice, “I would be delighted to play master to you this evening.”

“Thank you,” Erestor said sincerely.

“What of the hermit and the fool? Or the Lovers? Maybe I should have started with better clarity. I hoped we could each take two of the archetypal themes of life from the Tarot cards, and loosely act those out loosely in dance. I like the Fool because it has so many possibilities. A free spirit, beginnings, one naive and untouched by the world. You could be the emperor, the hermit, justice, dare I say even the hanged man or the sun. So many tantalizing choices? But if this does not appeal to you I will follow your lead.”

“I think we should continue with the overall theme of ‘four horny men’,” suggested Maedhros. “Both of you are in corsets right now,” he said, and Fingon waved a hand to shush him. “Why not go with ‘All Tied Up’?”

“You wish to tie me up and have me dance?” Erestor asked, confused. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Glorfindel’s initial reaction of panic. “Fin cannot do that, Maedhros. Not without some clever workaround that will not place him in bonds.”

“What? No. These are just...where did that--” Maedhros saw the prancing peacock man across the room, but too far away to call him. He put two fingers in his mouth and whistled so loudly, so shrill, that everyone turned to look at him. He waved over the man in question, while Fingon shrunk down in his seat and muttered a curse. “We need a little more clarification,” said Maedhros sternly.

“Certainly.” For the first time since their arrival, the colorful man looked to be all business with them.

“These team names. Why? Why not… letters or something if there are numbers for people?”

“Just for fun. Nothing to overthink. I have a couple over there who chose ‘The red team’.” He looked around, and his eyes fell upon Fingon. “Someone looks like he is not having a good time.”

“I am fine,” Fingon said curtly.

“Perhaps you just need a little cuddle to cheer you up!” The green-haired man bounced around to the other side of the table.

Fingon held up his hand and glared. “You come any nearer to me, I will fucking break your arm.”

The man held up both hands. “Noted. Any other questions?” he asked as he took a step back.

Maedhros shook his head as he gave a sideways look at Fingon. “No. None. Thank you for your time.” He waited until the four were alone again and shot Fingon an incredulous look. “Break his fucking arm?”

“I do not know him. I do not want him touching me.” Fingon crossed his arms over his chest. “I hate being singled out, and I hate strangers touching me. Or acquaintances. Even sometimes people I know. I bite.”

“I know you do. He was trying to be nice.” Maedhros took a breadstick from the bowl and snapped it into several tiny pieces, depositing them all on his plate.

“Sometimes rude people only understand a very direct answer,” Erestor noted.

“You make an excellent point,” said Maedhros. “Fingon, you can deal with whatever Glorfindel calls your team.” He even slid the blank paper closer to Glorfindel and out of Fingon’s reach. Then he lifted the rest of Fingon’s beer and placed it near to the mostly finished concoction Glorfindel and Erestor had been nursing. “And you are strictly on water the rest of the night.”

Glorfindel glanced repeatedly from the paper to Fingon and back, biting his lip. Erestor leaned over and whispered something only for his hearing. The worried mien turned to a smile, and Glorfindel wrote on the paper and immediately folded it.

Maedhros took hold of the paper, as well as his own, and marched them to the hostess. It was only when he returned that Fingon looked alarmed. “Which songs did you write down?” he demanded.

Before Glorfindel could answer, Maedhros put an arm around Fingon, used his other hand to cup his cheek, and kissed him until he relaxed. “Surprise number four,” Maedhros told him, and Fingon sighed but settled down.

Glorfindel returned to his beef medallions. Priorities.

“Is Gildor faring well with Eruglar?” Erestor asked Maedhros. “We did promise them food to be brought home. I do not wish to forget them. I think Gildor would like my dish very much.”

“They are having a grand time,” relayed Maedhros. “Gildor told me to choose whatever I thought best, so I trust your judgement. We will be sure to bring some food home for them.” 

“Five minutes, everyone! Five minutes before the dancing begins!” announced someone from the stage.

“Time to finish my half of the scorpion bowl,” Glorfindel sighed happily. “Except...I think I may have already had my half. Sorry, Ress. I did not pay enough attention.”

“Fear not, Fin. Two or three sips more, I feel sure you are entitled to that much.” Erestor kissed Glorfindel’s hair. “Does anyone warm up, or..?I suppose I shall just have to find out.”

“I am going to find the lavatory in preparation,” said Maedhros. He excused himself and Fingon considered following but resumed poking at his mostly uneaten food. 

The server came over to clear away some of the unneeded plates. “Did you not find the shrimp to your liking?” she asked upon observing Fingon.

He did not answer as he played with his food with one hand and reached the other out in an attempt to retrieve his beer. Erestor saw and rapped Fingon’s knuckles with a breadstick until his hand retreated.

“Shall I have them wrapped so you can take them home with you?” 

Fingon, who had been stacking the shrimp into a tower, looked up and said, “No. I am still grazing.”

The server nodded and slipped away to the next table.

“Are you unhappy, Káno? Have any of us displeased you? I know I ask too many questions but I try very hard to talk with you and not just barge into your thoughts.” Glorfindel tentatively blew kisses at Fingon.

“I already know I am going to lose. It should not make me feel this bad, but it does. I want to try to have fun, but it is still a competition. This probably makes no sense,” mumbled Fingon.

“No, it does not, because you always win. I am failing to perceive the problem,” Erestor noted.

“What he said,” Glorfindel frowned. “Or is it that you believe I am that awful, and will have to cope with losing because I was the cause of it?”

“Heavens, no! Glorfindel, I expect you to be wonderful,” said Fingon sincerely. “I just know I am not going to be able to do very well tonight, and...I get depressed,” he said in a small voice. “And I apologize.”

Crestfallen, Glorfindel rose and straddled Fingon as Erestor had done earlier, but with no attempts to place his hips at a chaste distance. Moving errant strands of Fingon’s hair here and there, his touch was refined, delicate–so that the cosmetics were not disturbed. Edging up, he pressed their lips together very softly, eyes full of compassion not leaving those of his husband. Maybe it would not help, but in his own way Glorfindel simply wanted to convey that he understood.

Fingon returned the gentle kiss and then clung to Glorfindel. “I wish it was not so hard,” he whispered.

“I am with you,” Glorfindel assured. “We, are with you.”

Maedhros returned and sat down slowly. Without needing context, he reached over to pet Fingon’s head. “No one is going to make you dance if you do not want to,” he said carefully. 

“I want to dance. I just do not want to compete,” came the reply.

“Then just...pretend you are not in it,” said Maedhros. “You know what I am going to do? I am going to go to the hostess and ask her to call your team up, but I am going to tell her you are withdrawing from the competition. They seem pretty understanding here. Would that be alright?”

“I do not want to cause any trouble or disappointment,” Fingon said, voice muffled against Glorfindel’s shoulder.

“The only thing that will disappoint me is knowing that you are doing this when you do not want to,” Glorfindel said assertively, grasping at Fingon’s jaw and forcing him into eye contact. “I mean it. You are worth more to me than my own life. I want you to be really content, not just half-assery.” Frowning, Glorfindel tried to work out if that was even a word. Well, if it was not it ought to be.

“I want to dance with you. I even want to sort of try to win,” Fingon admitted. “I just...I cannot. Not with everyone watching.” Fingon’s bottom lip trembled and his eyes watered and threatened the dark liner to smear.

“The people. All the people,” Maedhros suddenly realized, for the room had filled substantially after their arrival, and there were now many in attendance who were standing around the edges and leaning at the bar. “Honey, I am going to go speak with the hostess. I will be right back.” Maedhros untangled one of Fingon’s arms from Glorfindel so that he could kiss the back of his hand and then was off to complete his mission.

Glorfindel leaned in for another soft kiss, which obscured his unoccupied hand busily loosening the ties on his scarf. His mouth delved deeper into his husband’s. In a moment, the scarf had transformed into a blindfold, which he tied it in place once he sensed Fingon would not resist. Then came more offerings of affection, including teasing kisses from lips that held bacon-wrapped shrimp.

Fingon smiled around a morsel, chewed, and swallowed. “I can dance blindfolded,” he said, in case that was a concern of any sort. “I will, however, need you to lead.”

“Oh honey,” Glorfindel purred while Erestor looked on approvingly. “Going to lead you so hard you might be a little sore the next day.” Glorfindel winked at Erestor, grinning to see that he caught the reference. Except, Erestor had needed to be  _ reminded so hard _ . Across the table, the darkling blushed a deep pink and quickly hid behind the scorpion bowl.

Fingon chuckled, for the blindfold dulled the most dominant of his senses and put him almost instantly at ease again. Like a horse with blinders, he was able to focus again on the enjoyable parts of the evening. “So...just the four of us, the peacock-man, the server, and the band,” he spoke to himself as he set up a fantasy scene to calm his nerves.

“You forgot my sexy, warm body molding to your every curve and motion,” Glorfindel reminded with cadenced tones. “Speaking the poetry of my love for you with the flow of my very being.” Another soft kiss brushed Fingon’s lips.

With a content hum, Fingon felt up along Glorfindel’s arms. “You know ballet is my forte, but I would have you tell me how you wish us to dance this evening.”

“Then we do ballet. I only plead that you be mindful–my extensions cannot be as dramatic as yours. I cannot, for example, stretch past horizontal for splits, nor exercise your level of control once in those positions. What I can do is mold to you as though I am an extension of your body and put on a show whilst doing it.” A boop to his nose finished off the information.

“That sounds fantastic,” said Fingon as Maedhros rejoined the group and touched Fingon’s arm to alert him of his presence. “Glorfindel found a solution. I am sorry you had to go through that trouble talking to the hostess.”

Maedhros motioned to the other two that he had not really gone through any trouble, and that both pairs were still in competition, but said out loud, “Nothing to worry about, darling.”

“Mae, someone is eating very well like this, and I would like to finish my vegetables,” Glorfindel hinted. “You will be a good boy and have your food with kisses, I hope?” With a last passionate indulgence, he returned to Erestor’s side.

“I think it would be easier if my kitten curled up on my lap,” suggested Maedhros. Fingon obliged, though a bit more groping than necessary occurred. When Fingon was perched on Maedhros’ lap, Maedhros lifted a piece of shrimp for Fingon with his own teeth. Unsure of how else to easily aid him now that he was limited in his ability to give verbal commands, Maedhros placed his hand against the back of Fingon’s head and pulled him closer until his lips bumped against the food. 

Fingon licked his lips and ate what he was offered. Then, he took his time in thanking Maedhros with several languid kisses and some nibbles on the throat.

_ You did very well with him, Fin. I know it is not easy sometimes. I do not think Maedhros could have done better. _

_ That is high praise, _ Glorfindel grinned.  _ And speaking of our flaming, exquisitely exotic god, what are you going to do with him? Regarding dancing, I mean. It is still early to be that lascivious. _

_ Is it?  _ Erestor queried.

_ You are really…? I mean, I just thought with your veil and all...you have changed concerning what you believe is appropriate. At least, that was my impression, not that I am in any way seeking to limit you.  _

_ I am still exploring,  _ the dark beauty admitted.  _ I will tell you that the veil shall remain, secured by a different wrap that Inarata showed me. The trousers shall remain. The shirt and vest...that depends on many things. _

  
_ I am prepared to admire any and all of them,  _ Glorfindel promised. Erestor noted that Glorfindel squirmed just a little in his seat, and could guess why. 


	2. Chapter 2

“May we have all of the couples for this evening to the dance floor? Everyone, over here, front and center!” The green-haired man spread his arms out to show where everyone should stand. “My my my, such lovely lovelies! Such gorgeous gems! Which one of you shall shine brightest tonight, my darlings? Only time will tell--and the applause of our audience!”

Erestor loosened and re-wrapped his veil as promised, smiling with excitement. That smile increased as Maedhros rose and offered Erestor his arm. 

Glorfindel sipped the last of his liquid courage and straddled Fingon once more, capturing his lips.  _ When it is our turn, I want you to dance for me. Seduce me. As though you are questing for me in the dark but cannot find me. I will meld to you but elude your capture for as long as the dance lasts but in the end you will possess me in a pose that suggests your intention to master me.  _

“We are missing someone! Who is hiding? No being shy, now!” called out the colorful man on the stage.

Fingon and Glorfindel scrambled to their feet to join everyone else, with Glorfindel guiding Fingon so that they were standing near Erestor and Maedhros. Rules were explained and numbers were confirmed, and the couples for the first song were announced. There were many pairs who remained on the dance floor. Maedhros and Erestor were not among them; Glorfindel and Fingon were.

_ Do you feel like you want me to describe it to you, sweetheart? Or is silence and what I want to do to you afterward a better idea? I am so deliriously happy right now, I am probably being terribly annoying, chatterbox that I am… _

_ I am worried I might step on your feet, but hearing you so clearly is nice. I am still trying to balance myself from all that has happened in the last-- _

“And...one-two-three...one-two-three!” It turned out the peacock man was the conductor as well, and he started the band playing while the dancers in the room began to move in an attempt to impress the audience.

_ I will do my best.  _ Fingon was not acclimated to the environment yet, but he took Glorfindel in his arms and began to follow with the beat. It was a waltz, and there was little for Fingon to improvise. It was familiar to him, and from a formal perspective he knew how to dance it, but his preference for years had been faster paced solo dances. 

At the table, Maedhros leaned to Erestor and said, “Poor Finya--so nervous, he may as well be dancing with his sister.” Indeed, Fingon’s form was flawless, but stiff.

_ Relax with me, and roll. I want you to pretend that you are making love to me like you do. Let the box step be the corners of my body. You melt into me, so I know you can try. I will match your steps no matter what you do. I do not mind if a step is wrong but I want to feel you move against me like water over stones. _

Fingon had to take a few more breaths before he felt he could experiment with his steps. Melting into Glorfindel required turning him around so that they were spooned together as they danced. Instead of concentrating on the strict pattern of the dance, Fingon moved to the beat and kept an arm around Glorfindel’s waist. It began to evolve into something sensual that kept them somewhat anchored in place, but moving.

“Better, but now I fear if I watch that, I will not make it to my feet for the next song,” Maedhros lightly joked.

“Fin can be sensual to a degree that is…” Erestor snorted. “That is going to make me hard if I think about it so I really need to talk about something else. Like...did the two of you dance a lot?”

Maedhros shook his head and picked up his glass of lemonade. “Thank Indis for that. When Fingon took up an interest, he asked me to practice with him. His grandmother caught us and took issue. The next thing we knew, grandfather had us in his office and begged us not to do it in front of her or in public or all. I complained; he told us once we were married, we could dance all we wanted.” Maedhros smirked. “So, now I get to.”

Frowning, Erestor shook his head. “It  _ still _ is always Indis,” he muttered, doing his best to banish the unwanted specter away from this occasion.

_ Ohhh sweetie, this is amazing.  _ Their cadence may have seemed imperfect to some, but Glorfindel achieved the sensation of near-flying in his husband’s arms. Head thrown back a little, his face beamed pure joy.  _ I want this at home. More of this, moving like this… _

So absorbed was he in their own private world that Glorfindel did not notice the eyes upon them. To hell with technical brilliance, when that kind of passion poured out of the pair’s every motion.

_ Do you like this? I worry I am being a little selfish tonight… _

_ Need...concentrate...good.  _ Blind as he was, Fingon was still worried he might crash into a table, or worse yet, another couple dancing. He gave Glorfindel a squeeze to calm his fears before managing to execute a somewhat complex move that brought Glorfindel up off the ground in a spin that landed him back onto his feet.

“We did dance when he would host those parties,” Maedhros whispered to Erestor. “That was a little different, though. Like this, but more. And usually, naked. Sometimes, the kitten thing with the corset, but only if we were alone.” Maedhros tapped his fingers on the table. “I know he is going to live in a world of responsibility--not that he does not have them now, but I think you know what I mean. I just...wish he could embrace that again. He laughed like nothing I have heard since in those days. It was laughter that could warm you.”

“I have never heard that sound,” Erestor admitted. “I have never had the courage to ask him what it was like for him, when I was unconscious for so long. I do not mean that he was sad or worried or how hard he worked to help Elrond; I know those parts by dint of my existence in this world. What it was for him inside. When we came together I feel like we were dying for want of real love. Selfless love. I have given my best to improve his life and he has my unwavering devotion. I just want him to be free again. He has given that to me, while denying it to himself.”

Maedhros looked behind them and then leaned in and dropped his voice further. “He needs to love himself again, and he needs to figure out who he is to do that.” Maedhros pulled at his bottom lip with his fingers as he continued to watch their companions dance. “Clearly, you and Glorfindel have some idea that not everything is…” Maedhros sighed. “I have days when I do not know if I should call him ‘he’ or not...and I do not think he knows either. I just want him to be happy, but he does not seem to know what will make him happy. But...there is something with that. Times when I refer to ‘him’, and he flinches, but we are in public, and calling him ‘my princess’ there would not be appreciated and...it is hard for me to understand how that feels for him. So Finya is the best I can do, and we both know what it means, and it is what he will let me give to him.” And Maedhros fell silent and folded his hands.

“You think that perhaps, he would prefer to be acknowledged as feminine too,” Erestor pondered out loud – very quietly. “I knew there was something, because I catch the word ‘disgusting’ far too often but I assumed, perhaps wrongly, that it was based in a psychological self-hatred. Huh. His relationship with Glorfindel...he openly envies Fin’s body and yet I do not think he would like to exist in it. It is more that Glorfindel can so easily express a dual nature.” His gaze followed the pair as they twirled and turned. “Some believe that we seek partners to complete what is missing from ourselves. In his case...perhaps there is merit to the idea.”

“There is so much more to it than that. Being Fingon is being multiple people at the same time, like a die with so many sides. Roll it at random, and you never know who you will get.” Maedhros sipped from his refreshed glass of water. “I think I always knew I would never be enough for him just because it would have been far too much for me. I mean, it was. Too much, that is. Too much for one person.” He cleared his throat. “So...tell me about these exotic dance moves you know.”

Erestor smiled. “Using words to describe dance is a lot like using paint to describe music, do you not think?” His eyes held an expression not commonly turned toward Maedhros. Smoldering might be a word, but this was Erestor and therefore caution was warranted – extreme caution. Yet there was no denying that at the moment, Maedhros felt curiously like a morsel Erestor was pondering how he wished to devour. “Trust me that you will be enticed, and that you will believe that I want you.” The quiet confidence behind those words sailed across the table and coiled around the redhead bringing suggestive visions of what was to follow.

The curl of Maedhros’ lips came only a moment before his reply. “I would say it sounds as if you are trying to master me,” he teased. The dancers on the floor had become comfortable with the tempo, so the conductor began to speed it up. Maedhros scooted his chair closer to Erestor and leaned down with his arms on the top of the table so that he could whisper to him. “I have a secret to tell you, Eressë. Have you considered, you and I are older than the others? There was a time before Fingon even existed when I thought about beautiful men.” He shifted his gaze sideways and waggled his brows.

“Mmm. Then you understand perfectly.” Erestor traced one long finger in a serpentine pattern beginning at Maedhros’ wedding band until his clothing made going any further awkward. “And I already know that you are bright enough to understand that mastery is when someone else wants what you have, and you have the power to give it – or to deny.” Lifting his hand, he pressed delicate kisses onto the backs of his fingers before returning it to the table with an impenetrable expression.

All smiles and flushed cheeks, Maedhros had his eyes on the dancers but his mind on Erestor. “So...what are the limitations when we are out there?” he asked.

Erestor placed his hand over Maedhros.’ “Thank you for asking me that. It is important that my veil remains on. And that if any articles of clothing are removed from me, that I be the one to do so. Otherwise, I am yours to touch as you please. What I do is not for the eyes that watch us but for you; I am unashamed to be seen. Does that answer your question, and do you have boundaries for me?”

“I, uhm...I actually just wanted to know if I would be able to kiss you,” he answered bashfully. “I would never assume to be allowed to remove clothing from someone else in a public setting.” He almost reached for the mug of beer out of sheer force of habit, but retrieved his glass of water and gulped it down. “You look really fantastic today,” he added. “I am very much looking forward to being your dance partner.”

Smiling, Erestor, squeezed his hand. “We are both married to and love the same man. You may certainly kiss me anywhere you choose to. While I am not bonded with you we share something sacred. I do not understand yet what that fully means, but it certainly entitles you to privileges with me. I would also say a great measure of my love, but that you have always had; it is only taking different shape as time has marched on.”

“I might have to stop calling you ‘uncle’. I think the tradeoff will be worth it.” Maedhros was twisting the edge of the tablecloth, still watching the dancers. As the music rushed to the final crescendo, Maedhros turned his head and quickly gave Erestor a peck on the cheek, then shrank back and blushed furiously. “Thank you,” he said quietly. ”You mean a lot to me.”

For a moment the mask Maedhros wore fell. Erestor credited the unguarded honesty he could see over the words that had been said. He needed to rise a little out of his chair to cup the beautifully smooth and fetchingly colored cheek. His lips hovered so they barely touched those of Maedhros, leaving him the option of refusing.

An arm came around Erestor’s back, and Maedhros leaned in a little closer. “Words from you have always been honey to my ears, and the touch of thy lips is surely as sweet.” Their kiss was a combination of confidence and timidity, with Maedhros claiming a second before he settled back into his chair to join the applause around them for the dancers who were finishing their round.

Erestor seemed lost, held his fingers against his lips with eyes closed. Really he was memorizing the moment, only returning to awareness in time for about three claps. Where were their husbands? More importantly, did Fingon appear happy?

It was not long before Erestor received his answer. With some amount of haste, Glorfindel led Fingon back to their table. Fingon was blindly reaching an arm forward to find his chair, but ended up sitting down on Maedhros’ lap instead on account of it being closer. Head down, snuggled against familiar warmth, Fingon pulled his feet up from the ground and clung without saying anything.

“I think we did well?” Glorfindel gave the other two a shrug. He did not want to explain things verbally, so he projected to Erestor  _ We bumped into another couple near the end and he hyperventilated and almost started crying. I could not get him back here sooner because there were too many people.  _

Maedhros needed no words to explain anything to him. He was already holding Fingon close and whispering soothingly to him while stroking his hair.

_ You did the best you could, Fin. That can happen sometimes, I am sorry. Some days are not good and...we can only be supportive and see how it unfolds. He can change without notice and there is no way to know which direction the wind will blow. _

The call for the second group rose up, and with none of them competing this time, they stayed in their seats as others shuffled around. As soon as the music began, Fingon announced with his voice muffled against Maedhros that he needed to use the restroom. “Are you coming back?” asked Maedhros. Fingon nodded. “Do you want anyone to come with you?” A shake of his head. “Alright, let me help with this.” He carefully removed the scarf so that it did not impede Fingon’s vision. A moment later, he was left holding the scarf instead of Fingon. He sighed and looked at Erestor and Glorfindel. “I cannot explain it all, but I know some pieces of the puzzle. He had some teachers when he was young who believed in embarrassment as punishment.”

Erestor groaned.

“They had signs they would make the children wear if they did something they should not, and while Fingon never ended up in such a situation, he was so terrified some days that he might that he would become violently ill and unable to attend his studies. He fell behind; Indis blamed it on inabilities to learn, but I think if he had been in a more positive environment it might have been different. He did tell me once that he was so scared at the school one day that he pissed himself, and then hid that it happened and came up with another reason why he could not continue with classes on account of illness, but they made him wait and sit on a cold set of stairs until someone could fetch Indis--you must know, he spent more time raised by his grandparents in those years.”

“Yes, we know,” confirmed Erestor with a sigh as Glorfindel nodded.

“He sat by himself on the stairs for so long that by the time Indis arrived he had soiled his trousers a second time on account of the wet and the cold. For some, these are just unfortunate events in childhood. For him, they are memories he dwells on and goes over in his mind as if he can change them even now. At times I want to wrap him up and protect him from the world, but I also know that will not help him to move forward.”

“There are times I wonder if that woman will ever comprehend a fraction of the suffering she has placed on the shoulders of others,” Erestor said. “I have wanted to hate her and now it has moved to a place beyond that. I find I no longer consider her – I mean, in a sense of being affected by her emotionally – except in terms of what else I discover of her misdeeds and how I might help those I love recover from the harm done.”

“Then you are more evolved than I am,” Glorfindel admitted. “But I know that yours is the course of better wisdom and so I shall try to follow your example, Ress. She can still cause me to feel angry, though. I want so much for him to feel free, and happy. Every time I start to think I understand, I find out there are a dozen more chains. So be it; I must work that much harder.”

“Oh, but she is not the villain in this story,” cautioned Maedhros. “She tried to get the teacher who left Fingon to sit on the cold stairs dismissed--she said nothing of the condition he was in when she got him home to anyone at the school for he feared future punishment for it and for lying to them about it. He remembers that day, and how, once in the safety of the palace, she coddled him, and even gave him a bubble bath herself, then kept him with her the rest of the day. He sat on her lap while she worked on her crafting and even fell asleep there until supper. There are many unfortunate things Indis has done, and will do, and her choice of words is not the best, but I believe she truly loves Fingon and I would daresay favors him among her grandchildren.”

“Then thank you for telling me that,” Erestor said sincerely. “I have heard precious few positives and have myself been a victim of the negatives. It helps to know that.”

“Oh, she is the worst,” Maedhros said without hesitation. “Her potato salad is not too great, either. She does care a lot about Fingon, though, and that is the only reason I have not had loud words with the woman. Literally the worst. Maybe not the worst, but...close. In the running.”

“For that alone I can keep my tongue still,” Erestor defended his position. “I love him enough to do that. Though, I reserve the right to insult her stupid potato salad all I want.”

Glorfindel had listened, his features changing. Abruptly he stood up and stormed off, almost knocking his chair over; Erestor had to grab at it with apologetic glances at the next table. 

“What is that about?” Maedhros asked quietly.

“I can guess based on his words but I am not positive,” Erestor replied, just as surprised. “Fin can be very determined when he sets his mind to something. His tenacity with me would give definition to what I mean by ‘very determined.’”

A call came up for the next set, and Maedhros almost realized too late that he and Erestor were next. He hastily stood up in the midst of drinking from his water glass and made a motion to the dance floor. The pair weaved through the tables, Maedhros in the lead and pulling Erestor along with him, chuckling at the determination in Maedhros’ steps to reach the rest of the couples before the music started. He assumed his persona along the way; by the time Maedhros took his place he held the hand of an Erestor on one knee before him. The pose was submissive. The placement of his other hand, questing halfway up the magnificent redhead’s inner thigh, evoked an additional dimension. In his peripheral vision, Erestor was fully aware that many heads were turning to watch them, both dancers and those seated alike. Hidden by the manner in which the fabric of his veil covered his mouth, the corners of his lips turned in a satisfied smirk.

\---

Glorfindel threaded his way to the restroom and entered, pausing for a moment to observe. Other patrons entered and exited though the facility was not at all crowded and as before, the room was scrubbed to an impressive state of cleanliness. Flowers and bowls of scented herbs with oils made quite a contrast to what one usually found by way of a men’s room. At the washbasins, there stood Fingon, eyes closed, lathering his hands with a lavender soap that had by now filled the entire space with its aroma. He did not stop, making it apparent that this had probably been going on and would continue indefinitely.

_ I am here, love,  _ Glorfindel announced before coming too close behind him.  _ I want to do that with you.  _ Lightly, he melded against him at the sink, a whisper of warmth against the length of his frame but still lingering back.  _ Please?  _ There was stiffness at first, tension, then he felt Fingon relax a little and saw him nod in the mirror. When his husband raised an arm, Glorfindel swiftly ducked under to stand in front of him, once again forming himself gracefully as a second skin. Arms reaching back for a moment, he lightly held Fingon’s shoulders and did not hide the radiant happiness that came at the pressure of Fingon’s elbows tightening against his ribs. A full smile ran from ear to ear, pearl teeth between rosy lips.

Another patron came to wash his hands after exiting the stalls, dressed in fetching purple leggings with a fitted, flowing tunic dominated by splashes of lilac and muted violet. The ellon made it as far as dispensing the soap before glancing up and catching sight of the pair in the mirror, involuntarily gasping at Glorfindel’s stunning beauty on full display.

The object of admiration never heard a thing. Blue-green eyes consumed with adoring Fingon drank in every feature of his husband. His fingers traced down the muscled arms to the sink, managing to describe lovemaking in the simple act of taking his lathered hands and caressing them. Then Glorfindel silently pleaded for Fingon to wash his hands, wholly unaware of the hapless ellon flushing and becoming aroused nearby.

Fingon had been using the washing of his hands as an excuse to be near enough to the door to lock and block it as soon as the stalls were all empty. The constant stream of people prevented that, and would likely continue to. As Fingon rinsed the suds from his fingers, he stared down at the water and spoke quietly, knowing he would still be overheard by the stranger nearby. “I came in here because I need to get the corset off. I cannot breathe out there, and I cannot dance with it. I never would have worn it if I had known we were going to be dancing. But then I have to walk back in there with it tucked under my arm, and if that is not embarassing…” Fingon sighed and continued to let the water run even though his hands were impeccably clean.

“Oh. Well I have that problem solved, love. Right after my hands are clean enough. Which, they are not. I can just feel them.” Squirming a little, he had hooked his ankles around Fingon’s feet in such a way that he could rub against him quite suggestively, though that was not on his mind at the moment. The warm water felt so good, the soap sensual, and he really wanted his hands rubbed so that he could imagine what else might get rubbed at some later time. If not today, eventually. His life had required a vivid imagination; it was much of how he had survived.

“It would be my pleasure to assist you.” Fingon began the process of washing Glorfindel’s fingers, concentrating on one at a time, watching his husband in the mirror, golden-hazel eyes intent like a tiger focused on its prey. 

Beside them, the stranger gave a little whimper as he kept his gaze on the pair, until the sound of the door opening again made him look up. “Where have you--oh!” A similarly dressed elf with darker skin and lighter hair sporting a marriage band to match that of the man standing at the sink stood in the doorway. “Thought you fell in,” he teased. He glanced at Fingon and Glorfindel. “This looks like a far better excuse.”

The elf previously at the sink was heading for a stall and unbuckling his belt at the same time. “Just get in here,” he demanded.

The elf at the door grinned. He blew a kiss at the mirror that Fingon and Glorfindel were standing at as he passed by. “Thank you, my dears,” he said as he disappeared into the stall and shut the door.

Glorfindel blinked. “What was that about?” he whispered to Fingon.

“I, uh, I think we just encouraged use of the stall for something sensual.” Fingon cleared his throat and splashed the water over their hands. “There we are.” He reached for a towel, stretching on his toes. It had the effect of rubbing his rear against Glorfindel’s crotch. “Uhn...come here you son-of-a-bitch,” he scolded the towel as it was pushed just out of his reach. He had to extend his body further, and while on the tips of his toes and grunting as he struggled to get the towel, the door opened again. The pair who was about to enter backed out, with one of them apologizing and the other giving a whistle of approval. Fingon grabbed the towel and turned around in confusion, seeing no one but Glorfindel. “What was that about?”

“Uhm…” Glorfindel had every idea what that was about, but determined that telling Fingon the truth felt risky. Lying, though, was unacceptable. “Our position struck them as erotic,” he answered diplomatically. “I suppose I cannot blame them given that I was enjoying the moment for the same reason,” he smiled bashfully. “But never mind them. I need you to come with me.” Taking his hand, he guided them toward the stall furthest from the one currently occupied.

Fingon jerked Glorfindel back so that he was pulled into his arms in an impromptu dance move. “You need to know that I am not myself right now,” revealed Fingon. He bowed his head to kiss Glorfindel’s jaw and nuzzle at the hint of peach fuzz from the extended time since Glorfindel had last shaved. He licked behind Glorfindel’s ear, his tongue slithering about before whiskey tinted lips admitted, “I think I drank too much.”

One of the occupants from the occupied stall giggled.

“Oh honey, you can be any self you like; I am going to get you taken care of,” Glorfindel said in his best sultry voice. Elegantly, Glorfindel spun graceful steps to grip the stall door, splaying his back against it while still retaining a firm hold on Fingon’s hand. “I want some more of that.” His head arched back so that the line of his neck ran temptingly toward flushed skin between his collarbones.

With his hands at Glorfindel’s waist, Fingon began to kiss and lick his way up and down Glorfindel’s throat. One leg snaked behind Glorfindel’s back in order to pull him close, and Fingon kept his balance on the other foot, hands now free to explore up and down along Glorfindel’s sides, to feel the garment hidden underneath that hugged his lover’s body. Glorfindel’s hands tried to work under Fingon’s shirt to reach the lacings and attempt to give him the relief he desired, but the hands roving his own body made him forget every few seconds that he had a mission to accomplish.

Loud pounding came upon the door. It was cracked open and someone shouted in, “Lascivious Lavender? Are you in here? You are up to compete in this round!”

“Pass!” came a loud voice from the closed stall. It was followed by a giggle.

“No idea why the two of you keep competing when you can never finish a round. We should move the competition in here for you boys.” The server who had attempted the retrieval chuckled and closed the door.

“Leave it,” groaned Fingon when he realized Glorfindel’s plans. “There is no way we are winning; I just want to touch you.” Fingon moved both feet to the floor, and then took hold of Glorfindel’s waist so that he could lift him up and align their erections before he rubbed up against Glorfindel and continued to bite and suck on his neck.

“Just want you...be more comfortable,” Glorfindel breathed. Now, though, it was just this side of impossible to reach the laces he needed to loosen. Just two or three on the very bottom would be enough; alas, his fingers just missed them. The attention...there was nothing to bite save his own lips to try and distract him; they were in public and he could not make the sounds he wanted to so much and all of that resulted in a strange whiffling sound as air moved between his teeth.  _ If only I had worn a skirt,  _ Glorfindel lamented, suddenly realizing that he had failed to ever shut the stall door. He did so now, stretching to reach it.

“Awww…” The sound of pouting came from the other stall, followed by a giggle and a shush from the other.

Fingon tilted his head, then leaned it back with a small groan. “Shit, they could see us in the mirror through the slats of the door.”

“You are both sexy beauties!” called out one of the men in the other stall with an unsolicited appraisal. “If you just ‘happen’ to pop that door open again, I know at least two people who will not complain.”

“I can only imagine Gildor would be on their side if he was here right now,” mumbled Fingon. He was half-listening to the commentary, with a concentrated focus on keeping clear of the toilet while ravishing Glorfindel, with an attempt to keep their clothing on and cosmetics from smearing. 

There was a little whispering that was unheard, and then the voice of the second elf who had entered called out to them, “Oy! You wearing a corset over there?”

Fingon wrinkled his nose, shut his eyes, and sighed. “Should have rented one of those rooms,” he scolded himself. “What of it?” he called out, noticing how loudly the sound could vibrate off the tiles, especially when he used his angry voice.

“Bold,” came the answer. “When you dancing next? Ninquitar keeps telling me I should get one, but I am not about to invest in something so expensive I am only wearing once in a great while without seeing what it would look like first.” There was more whispering as Fingon stood with his mouth slightly open attempting to formulate a reply. “Hey, you the one dancing blindfolded?”

“Yessss…” It almost came out as a question. Fingon rubbed his nose and shifted slightly away from Glorfindel, his body calming down from the flurry of passion previously exhibited. “I do not intend to have anyone else find out the nature of my, uh...undergarments.”

“Oy! Why you wearing it, then?” There was a sound that seemed to be that of one person hitting another, an ‘ow!’, some whispering, and a loud and clear apology issued to Fingon. “You would get more points if you did, though.”

“Points?” 

“More points for the dance. Is this your first time competing?” The sound of the latch turning and the door opening made it sound that whatever was going on in the stall was at the very least put on hold. 

Fingon kissed Glorfindel on the nose and then sat down on the edge of the very shiny toilet. “Maybe,” he called back.

The frequent giggle erupted, and a moment later both voices announced in unison, “Dance hall virgin!” 

Fingon looked up at Glorfindel. “I feel so incredibly old right now,” he said.

Straddling him lightly, Glorfindel pulled FIngon’s head against his belly, then curled around to barely nibble along the edge of his ear. “I adore older men,” the blond whispered in a husky voice, so softly that their neighbors could not hear. With a smooch to his forehead, Glorfindel shook his mane and straightened, suddenly wearing a very saucy expression. Every bit of his attitude projected into his proposition. “So, boys. Want to make a deal? You get to see your corset if you both agree to stop teasing my husband. What say you?”

“Teasing?”

“You were teasing,” the slightly more solemn voice said.

Glorfindel turned to FIngon and winked at him with a brilliant smile, and blew him two kisses. He tugged up his own tunic, so that it was very clear to his mate that he meant to model for their benevolent pests and nothing would be asked of him.

“I laugh about everything!”

“He does not know that.” A knock on the still closed stall door startled both Fingon and Glorfindel. “You can keep your shirt on, but you will get more points if you take it off. They judge on costume just as much as dance steps. Dance, costume, attitude. You can be a terrible dancer and still win,” he explained from the other side of the door.

Glorfindel went to the door, glancing at Fingon in an attempt to gauge his mood, whether or not he would wish to be left in there alone or if the door could remain open. Seeing that there was not what he would term rampant enthusiasm he determined to save what gains he had made and pulled the door mostly closed behind him. In a fluid motion off came his tunic, which he used to keep the door anchored in its current position all without anything seeming odd. The pair received a friendly smile. “Thank you for your advice, we will consider that. I am Glorfindel, and one of you is Ninquitar?”

“Ninquitar,” remarked the taller one, pointing to the shorter elf who had first observed the pair washing their hands. “I am Manyanar. May I extend a true apology, face to face, to your… my guess is spouse?” Manyanar tipped his head in the direction of the door that Glorfindel was guarding.

_ Love, are you willing to have him talk to you? Say the word and I will tell him that this is not a good time and make it right. Please be honest and let me know what you need, sweetheart. _

_ They both seem harmless enough.  _ Fingon stood up and came over to tug on the door to show his willingness to have it opened.

“Yes. My husband. This is my beloved Fingon,” Glorfindel said, radiating pride when he retrieved his tunic and took his mate’s hand. He had never been able to say exactly that before to strangers and a shiver ran down his spine at the opportunity to do so. He flushed just to see the golden eyes watch him again.

Fingon gave half a smile, though it disappeared quickly.

“We just want to say we are sorry for offending,” explained Manyanar. “That extends to both of you,” he said as he shifted his gaze to Glorfindel. He looked back to Fingon. “Now, I do not want to cause any more offence, nor make further assumptions, so... he and him, or…?”

Fingon’s brow furrowed. “He and him or what?”

“Your pronouns, dear,” spoke Ninquitar. “Do you go by ‘he’ or something else?”

There were several moments of silence while Fingon clutched Glorfindel’s hand tightly. Part of it was due to Ninquitar seeming very familiar, even though Fingon could not exactly place him. The rest was due to feeling as if someone was reading his mind. “How do you even know to ask that?” Fingon warily asked.

Manyanar motioned about with his hands. “I do not want to stereotype and use the fact you are wearing a corset as any sort of indication, but...you are wearing a corset. And you are doing it secretly. Men take off their shirts all the time, they swim in practically nothing, but a lady would be offended at the thought that two men want to see her undergarments. And...honey, just take a look in a mirror.” Manyanar reached out and gave Fingon’s free hand a gentle squeeze. “You look really pretty.”

The emotional shield that Fingon typically hid behind seemed to suddenly evaporate. He felt as if his soul was naked before them, but not in an embarrassing way he often expected in instances when strangers or even friends learned or perceived things about him that he kept hidden. “Thank you,” he said softly. He set his jaw and looked at the floor. “I am not sure how to answer your question. I...I guess ‘he’ is fine.”

Ninquitar made a sympathetic sound and pressed a hand upon his heart. “Oh, sweetie,” he said. “How long have you been hiding?”

The eyeliner started to run a moment later, and Fingon merely shook his head and sniffled. Manyanar pulled him into a hug and Ninquitar retrieved a towel. “Oh, honey, neither of us meant to make you cry. You do not need to be afraid here. No one is going to hurt you here.” He looked to Glorfindel as Fingon wept on his shoulder, but still managed to keep hold of Glorfindel’s hand. “I...promise we usually do not have this effect on people.”

“You are kind, and open, and we have not often encountered that. Lack of acceptance or any support has been a very great hardship until rather recently. We appreciate your words very much; to know there is a place of sanctuary is comforting.” Glorfindel told them both, soothing Fingon with his touches as best he could.

“This is one of the best sanctuaries, but I wish there need not be sanctuaries. You are beautiful the way you are, and the way you want to be,” Manyanar declared. He was rubbing Fingon’s back and had the towel Ninquitar brought to him in his other hand. “No one is going to pressure you to go out there with your shirt off, or in any other way you are not comfortable, but know that if you want to be...if you just want to be, if you have ways you want to express yourself here that you are scared to do on the outside, this is where you can always come to do that. No one judges who you are here. I mean, in the dance contest, sure, I guess we judge there, but...you, as a person, you are welcome here.” A few times as Manyanar spoke, Fingon nodded.

Glorfindel continued to hold Fingon’s hand, rub his neck gently, do everything he thought would feel soothing but really he did not know how to improve on what was being said. “Do you and Ninquitar live on the island?” he had to ask Manyanar, wondering if maybe they had met new friends.

“Born and raised. We live on the coast. I think I have seen you at the market,” said Manyanar. “Ninquitar and I are fishermen. You paint, right?”

“Yes, I do,” Glorfindel acknowledged. “I am often at the market. Sometimes with someone to help me sell, other times alone.”

“We sell fish. All the time. I could suggest we could sit together some time, but fish smell like fish, so most people do not want to be near us except to buy fish.” Manyanar was keeping a watchful eye on Fingon’s state of being, and deemed it acceptable now to ask, “What would you like to do, my friend?”

Fingon shrugged and took the towel. With cosmetics smearing, there was some resemblance to a raccoon. “Fin, I am not sure I have it in me to dance again out there.”

“You are important, sweetie. Not the dancing.” Leaning down, he gently kissed his lover. “Would you like me to repair your cosmetics for you?”

“Oh, fuck, how bad did I mess them up?” Fingon pulled away from his concerned entourage and groaned at the mirror. “Why bother?” he grumbled as he yanked another towel from the pile and dipped it into water. “Oh, this looks terrible,” he muttered as he scrubbed the smeared makeup from his face.

“Once you have it off you can start fresh,” suggested Ninquitar. “This is just a random suggestion as I think out loud, but, if you did feel comfortable enough to show off what I am sure is an exquisite corset, that scarf you were using as a blindfold could be used as a sort of skirt if you wrap it around your waist.”

“That would be a pretty short skirt,” Manyanar assessed. 

“I like short skirts,” said Ninquitar.

“I know you do,” said Manyanar.

“On account of your sexy long legs.”

“Down, boy.” Manyanar had given Fingon space, but now that it seemed that the cosmetics were removed, he crept closer but stayed just out of range of the reflection. “I have a feeling you did not bring your own cosmetics, in which case, we have a room here and you are welcome to use whatever you might like of what I have.” 

Of the two new acquaintances, Manyanar was taller and more muscular, and looked by appearance to be less likely than Ninquitar to be in possession of cosmetics. Fingon immediately reminded himself to be cautious of stereotypes. “I would appreciate that.”

With the dance forgotten, Fingon and Glorfindel followed their new friends into the back hallways of the establishment. Meanwhile, Erestor and Maedhros were getting ready to perform for the second time that evening. 

“On one hand, I should have checked the order of the songs and given us a longer rest,” acknowledged Erestor. “On the other, my bones sometimes do not want to move again so readily if I sit down for too long these days.”

“I completely understand. My knees will oblige, but they are considering a revolt if this song is longer than the last one.” Maedhros stood up and adopted the regal aire he had for their first performance together. “Come, my beautiful catamite,” he playfully bantered. “Let us show the court the meaning of sensuality.”

Erestor stood and on a whim, he saw Glorfindel’s scarf that Fingon no longer wore. He tied a corner around the middle finger of his left hand and offered the other end of the fabric to Maedhros. “Lead me, Master,” the dark beauty said with deliberate provocation, staring into Maedhros’ eyes before bowing his head slightly so that the veil obscured him.

Both of the selections this duo were to dance to were faster paced numbers. Fingon had seen both as unacceptable for impromptu moves, but neither Maedhros nor Erestor gave much of a thought to the lack of preparation. Being older had advantages; both had heard this song many, many times in their lives. The scarf became an extension, a bridge between them. Erestor would undulate his body in suggestive seduction, and Maedhros would follow--until he felt Erestor had danced too far from him, and then the scarf was used to yank him back, where Erestor would obediently submit, grinding up against Maedhros with such fluidity that they looked as if they had been planted among the other dancers.

Unexpectedly, during one of those yanks Erestor dipped his shoulder to let his vest slide off his arm gracefully and without any seeming contrivance; the garment was now more flowing fabric in the hand that connected him to Maedhros. When he was reeled back this time, the lithe body arched backwards, tunic partially open with hints of his chest displayed. The line of his head and other arm described a graceful arc – his body offered to the one who possessed him. Face turned partially away, lungs heaving to take air, further showing off the sculpted form beneath. It was a difficult, intensely erotic pose and for the love of everything Erestor hoped Maedhros had the sense to pull him out of it after the moment of dramatic effect had accomplished its purpose. Really he was too old for this, but the abandonment to the present moment was too wonderful to refuse.

Unseen as Erestor was showing off, Maedhros had been able to reach out to one of the tables and yanked a flower from the vase on the table. He had it in his teeth so that when he pulled Erestor up again, bodies melded together, he transferred the carnation between them with a grin. One hand was still grasping the end of the scarf, but the other slid around and squeezed Erestor’s ass as Maedhros used his might to easily dip Erestor nearly to the ground before pulling him back up again, this time spooned against his chest. He had also managed to wind the scarf around Erestor’s wrists and arms and with his height held Erestor momentarily suspended with his arms in the air, flower still firmly in his mouth. “You are mine,” growled Maedhros, his lips moving along the outline of Erestor’s neck without quite making contact. Then, before Erestor could respond, Maedhros gave a snap of his wrist to spin Erestor back out again, tethered by the scarf.

Not expecting this, Erestor flushed with nascent arousal, making an impressive show of dropping to his knees again and weaving a descriptive set of motions that alternated between turning away and seeming to tug at the scarf as if trying to break free, and gazing upon Maedhros as he slowly unbuttoned his tunic, appearing mesmerized as he did so.

A crook of his finger and a smouldering look in his eyes beckoned Erestor, but Maedhros was also slowly twisting his end of the scarf around his wrist to bring Erestor closer and closer whether intended by his partner or not. The song was quickly coming to an end, but Maedhros did not intend to rush and stayed the course.

The tunic was free now, falling open and off his shoulders. Erestor allowed it to slip down while he gained his feet in an upward spiral, using the shirt sleeves to create the impression of bound wrists. Appearing to halt, head drooped, one more firm tug from Maedhros twirled Erestor into his hold. Just as the music sounded its final chords, Maedhros lifted Erestor by his waist, bringing his bare chest high against him. Shifting his grip to the firm globes of his backside pulled their groins together; Erestor twined his legs around Maedhros, veiled head tilted backward along with his still confined wrists.

Maedhros leaned in to nip and suckle at Erestor’s rosy nipple. The dark beauty squirmed and bucked, eyes wide as he was fully subdued, a victim of his own need. The scarf was let go in favor of delivering a few spanks; with freed arms Erestor at once clutched Maedhros’ shoulders, shuddered and thrust against his partner in simulation of release. Arms now holding Maedhros’ neck, Erestor turned his face into the mane of red hair, hiding himself while his chest heaved and his Master smiled exultantly in triumph.

“Well I guess we know who won that round,” announced the master of ceremonies from the stage.

That was when it became evident to Maedhros that at some point, all others had moved to the edges to give him space to dance with Erestor. “Well, I guess we do,” Maedhros called back to him as the applause began.

Erestor raised his head, recovered enough now to pretend and smile, taking full advantage of the abundance of garments in his hands to shield his groin after Maedhros set him down. Yes he had worn black trousers. Was he going to rely on that? Hell no.

The pair made it back to their seats. “I suppose this means we are in the finals,” said Maedhros. He picked up his glass of water and clinked it against what was left of the scorpion bowl. “To us, and our combined experience. I hope Glorfindel and Fingon are having as much fun as we are.”

In a part of the basement reserved away from the hourly rooms, Fingon was shown into a room that was somewhat crowded with costumes, wigs, and a variety of props. There was a table with a large mirror in one corner and several wooden boxes stacked on a counter nailed along one wall. A few stools were in different places, and there was one chair that looked very comfortable yet worn and a second that seemed to have been pilfered from an office. “This is quite unexpected,” admitted Fingon.

“I did not want to say anything upstairs, because the identities of the star performers here are meant to be kept secret,” said Manyanar as he linked his arm with Fingon’s and brought him further into the room. “As you may have guessed, I am one of the peacocks. Specifically, I am a peahen.”

“I would never have guessed that because I am still not entirely sure what this place is.”

Ninquitar giggled. “Neither am I, sugar.” He crossed the room and plopped down on the office chair. “Manyanar makes Cesanyë keep all of her toys in here. We used to have it all at home, but we eventually lost use of our dining room. And our foyer. And a guest room. Moving it here was a chore, but regaining the house was lovely.”

Manyanar motioned for Fingon to sit down in the large chair and then pulled a stool up to sit in front of him. “When I was four, I toddled into the room where my mother and her friends were having a quilting party. I was wearing a pair of my sister’s lacy socks, had wrapped myself in one of the festival table runners, and had a lace doily on my head. My mother just nodded and asked if I wanted her to make me a dress instead of a quilt. I was so excited! Do you know what all of those ladies did?”

Fingon shook his head, but his shoulders were tense and his face was etched with concern.

“They spent that whole afternoon making me dresses and skirts and anything else I babbled about. My father came home, looked around, and asked if he was going to get a fashion show. I proudly modeled everything for my father and sister. I have been a hopeless fashion fanatic ever since. That went on for a while, and it was when I was studying law on the mainland that I first encountered the closed-mindedness of the traditionalists. I went to an event at the school wearing one of my best outfits. I had to listen to hours of laughter behind my back and snickers and sneers when I was closer. I finally had enough of it and I went up and demanded to know what was so funny. I may have punched a few people by the end of it; I was definitely expelled. I challenged the decision--while I was discharged, none of the others involved suffered punishment. I demanded to know why it was done thusly, and eventually, I was told off-record that it was because I was just going to continue to create a disturbance, and that several affluent individuals whose children were studying there demanded my removal or they would stop being patrons of the school. I finally came back here and I was absolutely livid. I spent the whole time on the ship getting more and more upset at what had gone on. All because I wore a gown and a lace shawl, and no one could accept a man doing that.”

“He was adorable. He stepped off that ship hissing and spitting like a wet cat,” recalled Ninquitar. “I was out on a pier fishing, and here comes this gorgeous man, mission on his mind, fire in his eyes, wearing a long flowing outfit, white, silver, and teal, and I stuck my pole in the sand and ran after him. I had never seen a man in a dress outside of the Peacock, and most of them were fragile flowers I was blessed to call friends, but none that I was honestly attracted to. This tall drink of water? Mmmm, mmm, mmm, And that voice! When he turned around and scolded me if I was there to torment him over his choice of clothing and told me I could just throw myself off the end of the dock to save him the trouble--mmm, I melted. I think he could tell the more words he spoke, the less likely it was I was going away. Best catch of the day,” he said with a wink to Manyanar.

“I had listened to several comments on the ship. I was just...high on anger. There I was, complaining and assuming he was one of them, and then I saw that calm puppy dog expression and the way his eyes were smiling at me. I almost stomped off, but I stayed to see what he wanted. He asked if he could buy me a drink, and brought me here, and this has been home since then.” Manyanar sighed. “A few weeks later, Cesanyë was born, the phoenix that arose from the burning embers of a dream to be a magistrate.” Manyanar reached out for Fingon’s hands and took hold of them in his own. “So...does she have a name?”

Fingon swallowed hard and looked sideways at the edge of the mirror, catching only the slightest glimpse of his reflection. Twice he nearly spoke. The third time his lips moved, the name “Finya” was whispered.

Manyanar smiled. “That is a lovely name. I know how easy, and safe, it is to keep your inner queen locked up in a tall tower away from the hurts of the world. I also know how good it feels to let her out into the light -- out into a world of acceptance and love. Do you think she might want to come out tonight?”

Fingon looked around at the items in the room, and then to Glorfindel, still near the doorway.

Tears of happiness were in Glorfindel’s eyes, and he walked to where Fingon sat, and knelt at his side, placing both hands gently on his legs. “Honey, I love you so much. All of you.” He turned to their new friends. “I am intersex. I have both a penis and a vagina. For years…” he stopped for a moment, struggling to keep speaking. “This man made me whole because he made me believe I was desirable, fully wanted as I am. That I was not some disgusting aberration or unlovable failure as I had so often believed about myself.” The jewel-toned eyes now looked only at Fingon. “I want all of what is inside of you, man and woman both to know how completely I accept and love you.”

While Fingon stroked Glorfindel’s cheek with the back of his hand, Ninquitar pulled another stool over to offer Glorfindel. Manyanar stood up and retrieved one of the boxes from the counter. “Finya. Finya, Finya, Finya.” Manyanar tried different cadences as he picked up an old mug with a collection of brushes in it. A stool had silently been brought as a makeshift table so that Manyanar could sit upon one and set up supplies on another. “Those dark, bold colors are not for her, are they? Black eyeliner and midnight lashes, red and gold powder and lips--that belongs to someone else.”

“You barely met me. How do you even guess these things?” wondered Fingon.

Manyanar smiled. “You are not the first person I have encountered who is tucked back in the far corner of a deep closet. The way you react tells me everything. You entered this room without question, but you keep your hands to yourself, not touching or exploring. Someone once told you none of this is for you. Well, forget everything that person said. You are about my height, and not too far from my build. Anytime you like, you are welcome here.”

Ninquitar dragged his office chair over so that he could watch but keep out of the way. He was closest to Glorfindel, and said, “Wonderful thing when we find someone who can make us whole. I kept telling my grandparents I was homosexual, and they kept saying ‘no, this is just a phase because you are short, as soon as you get taller it will stop’. My father kept telling them it does not work that way. Well, I never got taller and I never got un-gay, so joke is on them. They are fine; they eventually stopped asking me about great-grandchildren. We have a parrot and a handful of canaries. I told them they can spoil my birds, and I get to keep my freedom.” Ninquitar peered over at the items Manyanar was setting out and said, “I think Finya is more of a pastels kind of girl. Pink and rose and maybe violet.”

“Peach.” Fingon’s cheeks flushed. “I...I know someone who...his favorite colors…” Fingon struggled and took a deep breath. “I am, a, uhm…” He rubbed his chin. “My marriage...marriages...I...I engage in polygamy.”

“Huh. Well, do the other parties know about it?” asked Ninquitar. 

Fingon looked taken aback. “I should certainly hope so. They all collectively arranged for my last marriage.”

Ninquitar giggled, but there was no malice in it. “If that is the case, sweetie, you have a group marriage. Polygamy always sounds so scandalous, as if you are hiding it from someone.”

“I am hiding it. From a lot of someones,” Fingon admitted.

“I meant, from the other parties involved,” said Ninquitar.

“Oh.”

“So is it a husband or wife who likes peach?” asked Manyanar as he found a suitable color of lip gloss.

“Husband.” Fingon smiled at the thought of Erestor, but squirmed a bit. “This might not be a good idea,” he suddenly said.

Manyanar set the items back down on the top of the extra stool and waited.

Fingon rubbed his chin again. “I did not expect to be going out today, and I have not shaved in a while.”

“If that is all, I wish to inform you that you are not the only elf who has ever had to contend with unwanted body hair. Ninquitar--”

“Getting your shaving kit, dear,” he answered, already up and out of his seat.

In his quiet position, Glorfindel had barely moved. His head now rested lightly on his husband’s

knees, facing his belly, hands now gently holding one calf. More than anything he recognized the possibilities in this chance encounter and did not wish to intrude. Sometimes a stranger, especially an insightful one, could accomplish what a lover could not. Manyanar reminded him of Gildor in some ways. The emotional intelligence and self-assuredness part, at least. He did not know if Fingon felt aware of him or not; his encouragement had gone unacknowledged but this wholly was not about him. He was responding to Manyanar when he had not been able to come out of his prison for most anyone else; even his own lovers despite their assurances of love and support. Maybe it was because there was so much history and here there was none. Cursorily he felt for Erestor and perceived his involvement in the dance contest; now was not the time to seek advice. There was prayer, though, and he turned his heart and mind to Eru on behalf of his husband.

As the activity around them increased, Fingon ran his fingers through Glorfindel’s golden hair. He looked down, looked up, and then down again. “Uh... will you, uhm… excuse us both a moment, please,” he said as he helped to pull Glorfindel to his feet, and then tugged on his hand to get him to follow out into the hallway. 

Once there, Fingon kicked the door shut and leaned back against it so that they could not be immediately intruded upon. Above them, the sounds of the beat of the music reverberated through the floor to the ceiling, making the overhead crystal lamps sway ever so slightly. He took Glorfindel’s face in his hands and said, “I am drunk,” except the last word was exaggerated and drawn out to emphasize his physical state. “Help my make me…” Fingon paused, shook his head, and started again. “Help me make good choices. Everything is slow right now, I do not want to hate myself in the morning.”

Glorfindel prayed harder, begging for guidance. He knew what he believed Fingon needed. He  _ felt _ like the two men behind that door were a gift from Eru himself. He also worried that everything in his head right now was a projection of his own desires onto his husband. He did not know Fingon like Mae did. Or even Erestor. All he had was a love that did not always make sense to him and a deep belief that without the one holding him, he and Erestor could not  _ be _ , despite all their desire to succeed. Gazing into the golden eyes, he made a decision. He had been made to go on for a reason and if what he was about to do was wrong, it was going to be wrong out of a pure heart and just a slight bit of intoxication. 

“If you are asking me to choose for you, I believe you need what they are offering. A door through which you want and need to walk. I even believe you are drunk right now to help you take the steps through it when otherwise it might be too hard. I will be right at your side and if tomorrow you are unhappy, then be unhappy at me. Not yourself. I am taking full responsibility for my counsel to you. I have prayed without ceasing since the moment we entered that room because I know what this is for you. Still this is your choice. If my words make you feel fearful or that this is not right for you, then I will tell them that so you do not have to. What I need is to hear what is in your heart, drunk or not.”

Fingon listened in earnest and reflected on everything Glorfindel said. “I never had a guided chance to explore this. It was just...a boy wearing girl’s clothes. I mean, he called me by… he used my name.” Fingon had to stop and take a breath to keep from crying again.

“I will use your name, too. As much as you want me to. Only, I do not want you to fall apart right now so I am waiting on that.” Reaching up, he gave him a gentle kiss. “It helps so much when someone else understands. That is what you did for me. That is what he is doing for you. Like all of us, giving each other bridges to where we need to be. Do you see?”

Fingon nodded. He kissed Glorfindel back, and then said, “I just… I just feel like maybe I failed all of you, not to...be here already, or something. I keep telling the rest of you to be who and what you want, I did that for my children, for my people, everyone, but...it is hard to do that for myself.”

Glorfindel brought Fingon’s right hand around to push his index finger forward, and the wedding band he wore with its blue gem. He kissed it firmly and lingered, knowing the symbolism would be more than understood even in his state of inebriation. “I am more than your spouse, bound to you in the sight of Eru. I am your guardian. It is not up to you to decide what is failure and what is success. No one is going to be more relentless in battling against what you try to take away from yourself no matter the cost to me. The day you came to me in Elrond’s house, and wanted me to be with Erestor, with you. If you did not understand what you gained that day, then pull off the veil now, Fingon.”

Another kiss was placed upon Glorfindel’s lips. “I keep thinking about what Faelion tried to force on you. I do not want what I do to upset you or dredge up bad memories. To me, it is worth it to push it away to protect you. Does that make sense? I do not want to be selfish, but…” He sighed. “This is like a part of me that I tried to tame. I tried to chase it away so many times in so many ways. Sometimes I think I succeed, and then--well. Maybe my problem has been in thinking about it too much.”

“Protect  _ me _ ? Upset  _ me _ ?  _ Selfish _ ?” Though he tried to keep the volume down, the pitch soared and without meaning to Glorfindel shook the shoulders he grasped, though with restraint, eyebrows shot to his hairline and his face twisted with emotion. “I have yearned for this from you. Wanted it. Every time I would see a hint of it you would hide it away again and I...not just me, all of us, would think we had scared you off again somehow, saying or doing something wrong that only you understood, I– “ Stopping, he closed his eyes, breathing deeply, to center himself, until he could meet Fingon’s eyes again and speak calmly. “I apologize for whatever I said or did that caused you to believe that this part of you would in any way remind me of...him. There is no connection in my mind in any manner. There is this...no, now I know the name. There is Finya that I have wanted for a long time but she keeps running from me and that is what hurts but I will keep trying. That is the cost to me, Finya. That every time I do not succeed I have to live with my disappointment.”

Fingon pulled Glorfindel close and nuzzled him. “Like so many things, I keep thoughts to myself and suffer alone when there are people who would support me and help me.” Fingon stood back up again. “I want to go back through this door so you can meet her. And I am sorry I kept her away from you for so long.”

“Really?” Guileless, Glorfindel started bouncing, vibrating really, on the balls of his feet with excitement he tried to suppress. A lifetime of people not being wholly truthful toward him had schooled him to be cautious and he tried to supply reasons to withhold hope but something about this seemed so real. “Really?” he asked again, this time in a scared whisper. The vulnerability by which others had victimized him repeatedly was all but laid out on a platter and he did not think he was strong enough to protect himself despite knowing what had come of this every single time.

“Really.” Fingon shifted away from the door. He fiddled with the handle before opening the door.

Manyanar looked over his shoulder. He had spent the time curling his lashes and painting his face. Across from him, Ninquitar waved and then said, “I do not like relationships built on lies, so I want you to know that these walls are very thin.”

“And we are both glad that you decided to come back.” Manyanar motioned to the empty chair.

“Thank you for your honesty,” Glorfindel told them, “but I have nothing to hide from you. Right now I feel deeply in debt to you. Consider me the most interested spectator ever.”

Fingon sat down. Manyanar held out a hand. This was not intended for a firm handshake, nor a manly grasp of the forearm. Fingers were angled downward and wrist was slightly limp. “Cesanyë. Pleased to meet you.”

Fingon hesitantly grasped Cesanyë’s hand. It was more of a brush of fingers. 

“And you are…?”

“Finya,” came the shy answer. Fingon’s voice was normally in the higher registers, but the answer was a softer lilt than Glorfindel had previously heard.

“Good girl,” commended Ninquitar, patting Fingon’s shoulders before turning his attention to Glorfindel. “I have so many questions about your paintings, if you do not mind my questions while those two are getting more gorgeous than they already are.”

“I am happy to answer,” Glorfindel smiled a little giddily, unwittingly flouncing his hair after he made himself comfortable on the stool.

Manyanar set to work shaving the stubble from Fingon’s face as Ninquitar began to describe a particular piece of art. “It was a seaside piece. There were gulls, but they were diving downward, drowning themselves knowingly. In the distance, it was both night and day. Pieces of a broken ship were floating, tossed on the waves.” Ninquitar rested an elbow on his chair and his chin on his hand. “What does it mean?”

“Ah. That one. May I ask if either of you lived in the lands of Ennor during the Second or Third Ages?”

“Not I!” Ninquitar giggled. “I have lived all of my years here. All one-hundred and seventy.”

Manyanar’s playful smile was accompanied with an answer soon enough. “We are celebrating my ninety-first birthday next month.”

“N-ninety...no. No,” disputed Fingon. “Ninety.”

“Uh-huh.” Manyanar was still smiling. “Young hearts, old souls.”

“Bless you both,” Glorfindel smiled. “I am a little older. A long long time ago across the seas there was a Maia in the service of the Great Dark Lord, the one who marred all of Arda. His name was Sauron. Many battles had to be fought against darkness before he was vanquished but one was named the Battle of the Last Alliance. On the way to war in the lands of the enemy, we saw the ruination of all that had been beautiful. Trees cut down, waters fouled, fields, buildings and any other vegetation burnt and scorched. There was nothing. The sky above was filled with smoke and ash, the vomit of his fiery mountain. The air was a foul reek. In that black land we remained for eight years, besieging his great fortress. 

“The painting reflects my memories of that time. The gulls are all of nature that had gone and perished. The sky I painted is the eternal night we lived under though I knew day still existed somewhere. The ships were on account of our allies, the Afterborn, who fled to the lands of Ennorath when Eru destroyed their island home on account of the evil Sauron had wrought there. I am sorry my answer is not very cheerful.”

“There is no need to apologize!” assured Ninquitar. “I have looked at that painting every night, and I wondered about it so much.”

“He bought it from you four or five years ago,” spoke up Manyanar. “It hangs in our bedroom.”

“We should have some of your art hanging in our bedroom,” said Fingon.

“I do not want to discourage your contributions to the conversation, Finya, but I am going to either cut you or smudge something if you are not careful,” Manyanar said gently. Fingon’s head bobbed up and down, and then was kept very still.

“Talk to me up here if you want me to say something for you, love,” Glorfindel reminded Fingon, tapping his head. “I will happily be your spokesperson just like Erestor has to do for me so often,” he grinned. “Our husbands are out there in the dance contest, I should explain so that it does not become confusing. There are five of us, differently partnered, and all together we are a family. The fifth is not here tonight for he has just adopted a son and is home caring for him.”

“Aww, a family, like you, me, and Checkers.” Ninquitar leaned towards Glorfindel. “The parrot. Do you have pets?”

“Oh honey. You have no idea. We live in that huge Cottage way far thataway,” the blond gestured. “There are dogs, more dogs, horses, chickens, sheep, a cat, uhm, you see my husband Erestor has a penchant for befriending animals. All kinds of animals.”

“Alright. Just about done here,” said Manyanar as he made one last pass of the blade over Fingon’s chin. He grabbed a wet towel and wiped away the remaining foam. “Now. We talked about pastels. Peach, pink...hmm. Need something just a little darker for balance. You are very pale.” Manyanar pointed across the room. “Darling, would you--”

“Pink with the short sleeves?”

“Yes, and see if there is a sash that might go with it. Something darker.” Manyanar lifted Fingon’s chin slightly with his fingertips. “You have thick eyebrows.”

“Mmhm.”

“Would it be alright if I did something about that?”

Both brows knit together. “Like what?” 

“Nothing drastic, just more like what I have with mine. A little thinner, and shaped a bit. You can say no,” he added as he observed Fingon’s fingernails digging into the arms of the chair.

“Uhm...no, I mean…” Fingon looked at Glorfindel. “What do you think?”

“I think I am jealous, love. Would it be horridly rude of me if I asked Manyanar to do me first? If you would be willing, that is.” He raised his eyes to the other ellon, sure he would understand what was happening. Either way these two were already getting whatever painting they wanted, that much was certain.

“Switch spots,” directed Manyanar. Fingon went for the stool, but Ninquitar offered the office chair and took the stool himself while Glorfindel sat down on the big chair. “You actually have fairly delicate features already, but I can clean up the canvas a little.” A tweezers was retrieved and Manyanar set to work. “Did you find a sash, darling?”

“I found a gold and fuschia one, and a blue one,” said Ninquitar.

“Hmm. Not sure how I feel about either of those,” Manyanar admitted. He plucked a few errant hairs before he held up a mirror for Glorfindel. “You have very good cheekbones. Practically perfect facial structure.”

“Thank you, though I cannot take any credit for it,” Glorfindel smiled modestly. “I am just me.”

“Eh. Probably means you avoided a lot of street fights, broken noses. Second Age. Whew. That is a long time to go and still look this good.” Manyanar decided to move his stool rather than make Fingon move. “So you probably think this is horrible that you have such heavy brows, but it actually gives me more to work with. I do not want to make you uncomfortable, though.”

“You must do this all the time,” said Fingon. 

“Constantly.”

“I used to do things like this for myself, years ago, when I was living alone. At the time, I was basically a hermit, so I did not worry about anyone seeing me. That is my trepidation.”

“That is valid,” said Manyanar.

“Erestor is going to adore this,” Glorfindel sighed happily. At least, he thought so. He felt sure that if Fingon sprouted extra legs and arms at this point, Erestor would love it. Erestor had loved Bernard, despite all the trouble the many-legged sea creature of indeterminate nature had caused outside of Moria. Peach and pink could not possibly be an issue.

“Erestor does like pretty things,” Fingon agreed. “Go ahead. If I hate it, it grows back.”

“You said you did this before?” asked Manyanar.

Fingon nodded. “I did a lot of waxing. It was faster than plucking. I get impatient with myself.”

“Ah, waxing. Sticky and messy. Have you done threading?” asked Manyanar. Fingon shook his head. “Faster than plucking, less mess than waxing. Hurts if you are not used to it--well, sometimes even if you are.”

“I have a very high pain threshold,” Fingon answered almost too quickly. As Manyanar set out some additional items, Fingon began to recall various things he had done. “I once waxed everything except my head on account of being bored one winter. I used to tuck pretty often, but honestly, I got lazy.”

“Tuck, like, uh, down there?”

“Only kind I know,” said Fingon.

“That is expert level,” said Ninquitar.

“I tried it once. I made it about twenty minutes, and I thought I was going to die,” said Manyanar. “Alright, I need you both to switch seats because only this chair leans back.”

Glorfindel happily obliged, though he had been fairly discomfited at the idea of waxing his testicles. Because...that seemed like something that belonged in Angband, honestly. He recalled the advice Erestor had sought from Fingon years ago, before they were together, when he wanted to make an impression with a very scant costume. Glorfindel settled into the chair and picked up the nearby mirror to admire his ideal cheekbones, and the work that Manyanar had done.

Fingon seemed a little more relaxed, possibly on account of paying attention to everything Manyanar was doing in case he ever wanted to attempt it himself. 

“You might want to close your eyes so you do not flinch,” suggested Manyanar. 

Fingon did so. Manyanar made a few passes, and Fingon started to say, “This is not so bad,” but it ended in a yelp. “Oh, fuck...is there anything left on that side?”

“An ample amount. My apologies.”

“No, you warned me.” Fingon settled back again. “Glorfindel, may I hold your hand and occasionally shout obscenities?”

“Absolutely, darling.” In seconds the hand in question was being kissed and nibbled on in addition to being held. “What is happening here is causing me to think about myself. Manyanar, Ninquitar, since you obviously overheard our conversation out there, without going into the entire story I was lured into an abusive marriage partly because of my own bad state of heart and mind at the time and my immoral choices, but also because I was told and believed that my previous husband had died. Regardless, I was taken away to a place where I was believing every lie told to me, but I was only there because this man knew that I was intersex and believed he might use my female side to bear him a child. That did not work out. During my time there, I was wholly denied my masculine side. I was referred to as ‘she’ which is not how I usually identify though I acknowledge it as a part of myself. I had to wear dresses all of the time; my male clothing had been taken away. My husband required me to stay home, any activity by which I might pass the time had to only be what he deemed ‘suitably feminine’ like crochet, needlepoint and the like.

“I was unhappy but being forced to conform to a female gender expression was really only...how to say this...stupidly exasperating. I had many years, two lifetimes, as myself, though I only fully learned that I was intersex and that my parents had me operated on at birth very recently. Knowing that explained my nature to me, but I never felt I could not be myself. Even in places where homosexuality carried a death sentence I functioned in a suitably masculine manner though I had effeminate tendencies such as a love of flowers. I know I was thought odd. I know I embarrassed Erestor in the years before we were married when he was trying to find a wife. My obvious gayness was not hidden. But I never endured what I am perceiving Fingon has and I also realize that I do not see my femininity as a separate identity. I have no name for the ‘she’ part of me. Nobody would offend me by calling me ‘she,’ it would only feel a little strange in my ears and eventually the person would realize I use ‘he.’ And yet...I am desperate to be made love to by Fingon to my female anatomy. I now wonder how Finya might love me, how she would choose to express herself. I do not want to be told something so intimate here; I am the one who can babble about everything to anyone without a second thought. But I want you to know, Finya, that I am eager to discover that.”

“I do not think it would be too intimate to explain,” said Fingon when there was a pause. His grip was loosening slightly on Glorifndel’s hand, but he very much squeezed it now and then while Manyanar worked. “You have had encounters with her--you and Erestor both. Part of this identity is where my lack of sexuality resides. She is very sensual, and romantic, and...she brings you flowers and bakes for you a lot,” he trailed off.

“Aaaaaand Glorfindel is an idiot…” He bowed his golden head. “Can you forgive me for how much I have not understood?” he pleaded, touching his forehead to Finya’s hand. So much became clear in a blinding moment of illumination.

Manyanar sat back. “I am half done, but I think you both need a break.”

Gently, his head was lifted, and there she was. He could see it in Fingon’s--no, Finya’s--eyes. “She--I, have no reason for that, because I have not been especially open to you. I know that. I should be the one asking you to forgive me for not trusting in you--in all of you--sooner. It was unfair to Maedhros. He knew some of it.” She nuzzled her nose against Glorfindel’s. “It is not just the appearance, the clothing, the mannerisms. A lot of it is just how I feel. For some who are like I am, there are very distinct boundaries. Dress on, female. Dress off, male. Things are not like that for me. I...flow. Back and forth, and sometimes, somewhere in the middle. I spend a lot of time in the middle.”

“I want to give you what you need. Be sensitive to that fluidity you express. I have perceived but not comprehended what I saw.”

“Just being here with me means an awful lot right now.” Finya picked up the mirror and looked at her reflection. She tilted her head so that she only saw the side that Manyanar finished. “You do really nice work,” she complimented.

“Thank you.” Manyanar motioned that they could continue, and Finya placed the mirror aside. Manyanar made eye contact with Ninquitar. It was evident that there was a private exchange between them before Ninquitar excused himself. “What are your thoughts on jewelry?” asked Manyanar.

Finya gripped Glorfindel’s hand again as Manyanar tamed the bristly brows once again. “Right now, I am open to a lot of things,” she said.

“Good. I have some ideas,” said Manyanar without revealing more.


	3. Chapter 3

Upstairs, Erestor and Maedhros were celebrating with victory lemonade. “Even if we do not win, I think we are winners,” opined Erestor. “This has been a lot of fun.”

“It has been,” agreed Maedhros. He stirred the skewer of berries that was in his drink as he watched Erestor sip from his own, which was tinted slightly from the peaches at the bottom of his glass. “Eressë, when I asked earlier about kissing you...I know I asked in conjunction with dancing, but I wonder how you would feel if...oh, say we were just on a walk or at dinner...how would you feel about the acceptance of affection from me under other circumstances?”

Erestor poked at the fruit down below in the bowl and took a deep breath, sliding his hand across the table. He did not look up until Maedhros had taken it, then he raised his eyes. “I will answer your question and risk saying much more. I would welcome it. Out there, before,” he tilted his head toward the dance floor. “I was not acting.”

Maedhros lifted Erestor’s hand and brushed his lips against it, never looking away. “I had a feeling. At the end.” He continued to rub his fingers along Erestor’s skin. “You can really make a grown man blush, Eres.”

“I did not know how you would feel about...this,” Erestor admitted, his eyes lowered and his cheeks flushing. The hold he had on Maedhros’ hand tightened. “I am struggling to understand what happened. Something has changed within me. My mind tells me that maybe this is because you are now sanctified to the same man as I am. That same mind also tells me how sudden this is and fears you will be appalled for a number of reasons.” One tear slid down his cheek. “This much honesty is very difficult for me, still. I do not think I can say more now for I am too close to losing control of my emotions.”

Maedhros leaned across the table and brushed the tear away with his thumb. With the moisture on his finger, he pulled the front of his shirt down just enough to wipe his thumb over his heart. “You hold a special place for me. You have meant safety and support to me since the time of my youth. Until Gildor and I arrived for the last visit, I would have told anyone who asked that I was wholly monogamous. And now…” Maedhros twirled a lock of copper hair. “I do not know what we would be exploring, but I would like to explore it.”

Slowly, Erestor rose to walk to his companion, still holding his hand. “May I sit?” he asked quietly. Maedhros guided him into his lap, providing the response. Erestor studied the face he had known all his life. They had traveled paths that could not have been more different. A wave of longing, a stab of incomprehensible limerence speared him and he knew the fight to already be lost without even naming the battlefield. Very delicately, he traced his fingertips along the curve of the strong jaw, admiring the raw beauty of a face now seen with new vision. Stretching up, he pressed their lips together in a chaste kiss that spoke more of reverence than desire, and allowed it to linger.

“I hope it will not offend you, but I would forever give up the ability to call you uncle in exchange for more intimate terms.” Maedhros placed his arms around Erestor but allowed him to set the pace for anything more.

“That you already have,” Erestor confirmed. “While I believe, hope, that I will be supported, my vows were spoken first to Glorfindel and Fingon; I am not telling you anything you do not already know. They have a say as well and I am certain you have already spoken to Gildor; I have not been able to do so with my spouses. While I do not mean to leap to conclusions, neither do I wish to begin something I would not be free to finish. I behaved dishonorably for far too long and that must never happen again; whatever is between us must be with a clear conscience on my part. I have had numerous faults but I have always been loyal, Maedhros. Wherever this path takes us, I promise you my devotion here and now.”

“You are correct in thinking GIldor is in my head. He has been very loudly in my head,” Maedhros added. “He is being very supportive, and he says I am not supposed to tell you that he told me you are a great kisser, but he knows I am too honest not to tell you.”

Erestor laughed, blushing a little. “That, um, I hope I will prove to be to your satisfaction. I felt better when I did not know I had a reputation to uphold.” He shook his head. “I am too old to feel like a shy youth and yet I do,” he admitted. “I need to stop wondering why I am having these feelings and thank you for being open to this. I expected to be rebuffed, however kindly.”

“You are a very attractive man, Eres. I do not think you give yourself enough credit.” Maedhros adjusted part of the veil, which had begun to slip, and tucked a dark strand of hair back underneath. “When I speak of your attractiveness, I do not solely mean your outward appearance. There is much goodliness in your soul, and you have an open heart.” Maedhros lifted Erestor’s hand and kissed his fingers. “Allow me to be the one to ask Glorfindel and Fingon their permission and blessing?”

“I...I...they...he...but if he...but…I thought I...but…” the spaces between the birth and death of protests lengthened as he continued until he was brought to silence, finally looking up with an unusual lack of resistance. “That is really what you wish to do?...But...you would not have asked if you did not,” he kept on. 

The gray eyes did not waver. 

“Yes.” There were qualifiers and explanations that wanted to follow, but faded and dispersed before they reached his mouth. Only the answer, and continuing to study Maedhros’ face.

“Thank you.” Maedhros embraced Erestor and held him close for several minutes, oblivious to the gazes upon them from others in the room. The initial rounds were over, and some couples who were certain they would not advance were settling their tabs and clearing out, leaving more gaps between tables and less people standing in the room. “We should consider our game-plan for the finals,” said Maedhros, unwilling yet to release the hold he had on Erestor.

“Well, Master, you subdued me. Now that you have accomplished that, how do you wish your servant to please you?” Erestor queried in sultry tones.

“Hmm...what if we flip roles, to keep our audience entertained? They know what they are expecting--so you get the upper hand on me and...tame me.” His last two words whispered into Erestor’s ear as a low growl.

“Combine them?” the dark beauty suggested. “I begin kneeling to you again, rise and approach when you beckon; you whisper in my ear. Unknown is your command for me to dominate you. The rest takes its course. If only there was something to act as a riding crop, that would be delightful but I am fresh out of those tonight.”

“A riding crop? Hmm…” Maedhros looked around. Typically, there had been numerous servers all around the room, but there was a good chance they were settling bills and seeing guests out. There was a man in lilac and purple walking purposefully towards the stage. Thinking this must certainly be a worker, Maedhros gave one of his whistles. When the man (and many others in the room) looked in his direction, Maedhros called out, “You work here?”

The man looked over his shoulder, and then slowly approached. “Can I be of assistance?”

“Strange request, but we need a prop.”

“...alright.”

“Do you know where we might find a riding crop?” Maedhros asked.

The man almost looked like he was going to give bad news, but then he started to nod. “I might know where to find one. For dancing, I assume?” Maedhros nodded. “Let me see what I can do.” The man then went to the stage and spoke for a few minutes to the Peacock before he left the room without returning back to Maedhros and Erestor. 

“I am taking that as a maybe,” said Maedhros.

“If not I will make do. That is what hands are for. I also need to ask you what limits there are or what needs you have. Fin...cannot do activities associated with bondage and does not enjoy pain as an aspect of sex. I know nothing about you in this regard save that from what I have observed, you play rough.”

Maedhros chuckled. “I play very rough. Notice I never once flinched at the words ‘riding crop’. Whips, leather, chains...and anything else I can conjure up.” Maedhros lowered his voice substantially. “I built something once for Fingon and I to play with, but he was so...I guess terrified of it, he said nothing when I showed him, left with an excuse, and three days later I received a letter telling me he could not return until it was gone.”

“I understand why. All I can tell you is that you would find me a submissive match made amidst the stars, though I am able to change roles if that is wanted. I am on record as being able to take a whipping,” he smiled with humor.

“Tell me more,” insisted Maedhros, almost too eagerly. He was sitting up with interest, reminiscent of how he would react long years ago when Erestor was about to instruct him in something new.

Erestor reddened. “If we start down that road we will miss the last dance and end up needing the back room sooner than after the contest. Can I promise you a full accounting if for now I tell you there is very little I can think of that I would not consent to you doing to me?”

“Hmmm...I think I am looking forward to that. I also think, as much as I want you to stay, you should probably remove yourself from my lap for now, or we may not make it to the last dance.”

“Yes, Maedhros,” he complied with a smile. “Or do I call you Master, when we are alone?” he teased. “This has been such a memorable start to our relationship.”

“Only when we are alone? Hmm...Gildor is already begging for playtime with us. If, of course, Glorfindel and Fingon agree,” Maedhros hurriedly added.

“I would do as the Master wants,” Erestor winked calmly. “I welcome Gildor and bless his generosity – if as you say, I am given consent.”

“If we are given consent.” Maedhros picked up the card at the center of the table. “What do you think about dessert while we wait?”

“Licorice and peaches are my very favorites. Not necessarily at the same time. In general I enjoy all fruit flavors,” Erestor smiled brightly.

“How about this mixed fruit platter with tea cakes? We can share some of it with Glorfindel and Fingon. I truly hope they are not still in the restroom. Although, depending on what they got into, maybe I should want them still there?”

“If that happened someone is going to get teased.”

“Do I want to know?”

“It would make me suspect that Fingon had a secret desire to have sex in bathrooms.”

“Well…” Maedhros shrugged. “Not bathrooms, exactly.”

Erestor motioned for Maedhros to continue.

“Public places where he can be hidden. I cannot tell you how many times we ended up in parks or behind buildings where we could hear people or in the public baths where other people could hear us. I will be no percent surprised if he has sex in a bathroom tonight.”

“I feel like having you with us is going to be like suddenly being in possession of a missing dictionary to a partially untranslated language,” Erestor frowned. 

“I can be your tour guide to life with Fingon.”

“I would love help to love him,” Erestor told him sincerely. “Because I do, so much. He saved my life. I am so grateful that you and he...I could never be what you are to him but I am other things. So is Fin.”

“I think you are both more to him than you know,” said Maedhros sagely.

\---

By the time Manyanar finished, Finya’s eyebrows were a much softer feature. Most distinctly, there would be no single knit brow to follow disagreements. Each side was carefully shaped, curving, tapering off, and allowing for several variations of expressions should she wish to employ them in such a way, rather than simply relaxed, and annoyed or possibly frustrated or angry being grouped into a single option..

“You have very long legs,” said Manyanar while looking at the dress that had initially been chosen. “I think we should emphasize that. How far up your thigh are you comfortable having a slit in a dress?”

“Great question,” said Finya. The gaze of those questioning golden eyes fell upon Glorfindel.

“This is her first outing, and there are going to be many occasions on which to be more daring. Can we go for just ‘a little saucy’ rather than anything too provocative? I think that is the safer course. If she really wishes, there is always the time-honored tradition of hiking up the skirt a little more,” Glorfindel winked.

“In that case, let me see if I can find…” And Manyanar trailed off and went in search of something. 

Ninquitar reentered, and immediately was searching for something as well. “Manny, have you seen that riding crop today?”

“The one with the silver inlay?”

“Do you have more than one riding crop in here? If so, I would like to be in possession of that information.”

Manyanar laughed. “Nope, just the one. No clue where it is. Do you remember that turquoise dress with the--” Before an entire description could be given, Ninquitar was handing it over to Manyanar. “Thank you. I will keep a watch for the riding crop.” Manyanar paused as Ninquitar hastily dug through a box of props and moved to the next one. “Why do you need a riding crop?”

“Why, indeed? Why do you need one? Do not answer; I like these people and I would rather not scare them away,” said Ninquitar. Manyanar smiled. “There was a patron upstairs who thought I was a server or something and asked me to get him a riding crop.”

“Did he say what he wanted to use it for?”

“The guy is almost twice my size. You try saying no to that,” said Ninquitar.

Glorfindel thought for a moment. Erestor was up there and, well… “I do not suppose the man in question had red hair?”

“You know him?” asked Ninquitar at the same time Manyanar snapped his fingers and walked across the room.

“Yes. Very well. I live with him,” Glorfindel smiled apologetically.

“And I married him,” added Finya.

Manyanar walked over with the riding crop in hand. “I suppose it would be rude of me not to allow him to use this, then.”

“Well, you would disappoint Erestor quite a lot, that much I can guess.” Glorfindel smiled ear to ear. “Our husband, uhm, would appreciate allowing him the use.”

Manyanar handed over the crop to Ninquitar. “Give this to the ginger with my compliments, and let our mutual friend know to stall until we can get up there.”

“On it.” Ninquitar disappeared back through the door.

“I guess they are still in the contest,” Glorfindel mused. “I can only imagine what Ress cooked up. Or can I? I have learned that it is a terrible idea to think I know his limits. Er, wait. ‘Cooked up’ was not the right idiom to use there at all. Choreographed. Improvised?” The blond shrugged. “Though, he has gotten so much better with the culinary arts. Maybe he did cook it up.” His attention returned to his spouse. “Finya if I may say, Manyanar puts me to shame as an artist. Always you have been beautiful in my eyes but these refinements create exquisite new geometry in your features.”

Finya was now becoming interested in peering into the box that Manyanar was retrieving items from. Seeing this curiosity, the box was pushed closer. “Go ahead. Pick out eyeshadow and lipstick that would go with this dress,” Manyanar encouraged. “I think I have foundation that is light enough to use on you.”

Finya pulled back a little. One leg shook with a nervous tremor. “I...I like my freckles,” she said. “I try not to cover them up.”

“They are very noticeable. If you do not conceal them, people will be able to connect Finya to…” Manyanar paused. “You seemed unsure about people you know managing to put together pieces of your puzzle, from when you told me earlier that you hope none of your coworkers are here.”

“I know. I…” Finya withdrew her hands and twisted at her fingers. 

Glorfindel’s hand gently touched her shoulder. “Have you tried using it before? Erestor used to put it on for his performances to keep the lights from shining off of his skin. It was harder for him to find the right colors on account of his darker skin. And, if you hate it, it is the first thing on. It can be wiped away and Manyanar can start over. Also, you have freckles all over your arms and shoulders, and that dress is not going to cover them up--few people around here have seen the star spray on the rest of your body.”

“I am also doubtful I can cover all of them, anyhow,” said Manyanar. “You have some that are rather dark, so those will still show through unless I apply it rather thickly, and it should not appear...fake. I expect it will actually enhance the darkest ones and make them appear as beauty marks.”

“Alright. I cannot possibly fend off both of you.” Her words were more playful than Glorfindel expected they would have been from Fingon. “Also, here,” said Finya, pulling a soft rose-colored gloss from the box. “I would still like to find peach or something neutral for my eyes.”

“Your nails are very well taken care of,” said Manyanar as he opened a jar of powder.

“I cannot stand getting anything under them. I manicure my own hands. Because...I guess I have trust issues.” Finya sighed. “That is probably a shared issue no matter what identity I am embracing at a particular moment.”

“Surely you trust Glorfindel?” asked Manyanar. “He could paint your nails while I work on your face--if you would like that. I have a light blue that would be close to the color of the dress.” Manyanar examined one of Finya’s hands more closely. “There is literally nothing to prepare. He has a good canvas to work with, and, well, he is a painter.”

Glorfindel’s entire face lit up at Manyanar’s suggestion, but he did not want to pressure Finya. What came out of his mouth was an abysmal attempt at nonchalance. “I, uh, could do that, love, if you wanted. But only if you wanted. Totally your decision, of course.” It did not help that his eyes never left the fingernails in question with a general aura of yearning.

Finya lifted a hand gracefully in Glorfindel’s direction. “When I lived at the theatre, I painted them all sorts of interesting colors--black, green, white with red tips. Light blue seems like a better choice for tonight.”

“Yes, yes I agree,” the blond tried not to babble, completely gleeful as he accepted the offered hand and guided it to a stable surface, looking expectantly to Manyanar. “Have you a kit for nail color? I can improvise as long as I have a small swab, some remover and the color. I can even manage with just the color, I just have to be very careful.”

Manyanar retrieved everything Glorfindel requested and more, and brought another stool for Glorfindel to use as a makeshift workspace. “I remember the first time I tried to use eyeliner, I missed and I got a gob of it in my eye. I rinsed it out, which made the rest of my makeup run, and I still did not get it all out of my eye, which was puffy and red. Ninquitar has so many friends and acquaintances, so two days later this woman just shows up, and comes right in, and I had no knowledge of their previous conversation, so she just starts buzzing around and she was there to instruct me, but I found it amusing and charming that there was no introduction, just straight away to it.”

“Cosmetics basic training?” Glorfindel asked, amused. “That sounds so much more appealing than the real kind.”

“My sister showed me how to use eyeliner. She taught me most of it, actually.” Finya wiggled her nose to fend off a sneeze from the powder. “I have no frame of reference for military training. Ironic, really, I made everyone else go through it before the war, and then…” She hit her fist on the arm of the chair. “Dammit. I was trying so hard not to…” She sighed. “Manyanar, I...might have been engaged in a number of...events in previous ages, and...oh, fuck it.” She leaned back and away from Manyanar, who also sat back and frowned. “I was High King for a short time in the First Age. In Middle-earth.”

“Oh. Sorry, and this might sound insensitive, but is that supposed to mean something to me?”

“Uhm…”

“What I mean is, I know that the Vanyar and Noldor have royalty and caste systems, but being Telerin, I am pretty ignorant of what happens with all of that. We...really do not care about status in that way. Our king lives on a boat, and you can go visit him whenever you want, and some people do, but I never much cared about who was royalty because for us, it means little.”

“I guess I just felt like...maybe I was deceiving you in some way by not telling you.”

Manyanar shrugged. “Not really my business.”

“I really want to give you a hug right now.”

Manyanar set down the powder and sponge and extended his arms. “Just try not to cry like the last time,” he said with a smile.

As Finya hugged Manyanar tightly, she said, “Do you think I can put the dress on now?”

Manyanar winked at Glorfindel. “I think we can arrange that for you, my dear. I am going to step out and let Glorfindel assist you with that, though. I might pop upstairs and see this red-headed giant everyone keeps talking about.”

“I would like the dress on before the nail polish please? Then there is one less thing to accidentally mar it on while it dries.” Glorfindel tilted his head as he considered Manyanar’s words. “Then you have never heard of an old place called Gondolin either, right?” Glorfindel asked with casual hope.

“I cannot say I have,” apologized Manyanar. “Ninquitar might know more; he talks to more people. I like to live in the present, without dreams of dalliances across the sea. This is my home, and will always be my home, and I could not think to leave. Not for power nor money nor land.”

“I left for love,” admitted Finya. She lifted a hand and pointed upwards. “That red-head upstairs.”

“Alright, I suppose that might be a compelling reason,” said Manyanar. “All the more reason for me to go up there and see what he looks like.”

“Try not to drool,” Glorfindel chuckled, laying out his materials and placing a neatly folded cloth under Finya’s hand. “Just a friendly warning to prepare you.” The corners of his mouth twitched as he admired the beautifully kept nails that he really wanted to nibble on, reminding himself to think with the head on his shoulders. Shaking the bottle of polish vigorously, he winked at Finya.

“I was an athlete, too,” added Finya as if testing all boundaries at once. “Fairly known one at that.”

“Ew. Sports.” Manyanar shuddered jokingly. “Despite my physique, I was not the most coordinated child. I was never much one for physical fitness and outdoor games. Dancing I like.”

“At least we have that in common,” said Finya.

“I am going to go check on my husband, who probably is drooling up there. If there are any other accessories you see after you get into the dress, feel free to try them on. Jewelry is over there. I should be back soon.” Manyanar left the door slightly ajar after leaving the room.

Finya stood up and removed the boots first, then trousers, and all else that remained of Fingon’s outfit, with the exception of the corset and loincloth. Looking down with a frown, she excused herself behind a tri-fold barrier that allowed a bit of privacy. There was some swearing, some fumbling around, and the sound of fabric being torn. “I forgot how difficult this is to do,” she said, more to herself than Glorfindel. Eventually, she emerged, and it was evident from the careful walk and rearrangement of the cloth covering her groin that she had tucked back as best as she could given the circumstances.

“How does it feel to be nobody, Finya? Raise your arms for me and stand slowly.” Glorfindel smiled, holding up the dress so that Finya could have it slide over head and shoulders as she rose. The fabric cascaded into place; Glorfindel gave a soft whistle of admiration. “Damn.” His voice had gone husky. “Sash on now, or afterward?”

“The golden one, I think. Gold and turquoise go together, right? It reminds me of you,” she said, fingering the nearby fabric. The neckline dipped into a v-shape, and while there was a slit up the side, it barely reached her left knee.

“They do. I hope you will allow me to place it for you?” When Finya nodded, Glorfindel wove something like a surgeon’s tie with the fabric; a flat panel was created across the front of the waist but then careful repeating folds were added around each tail piece unto all of the fabric was accounted for with the ends neatly tucked. The color then accented without overwhelming or detracting from the lines of the dress. Pleased, he then invited Finya to resume her seat and moved to attending her nails, firmly restraining the finger to which he first applied polish with confident strokes of the brush. “I feel giddy. He probably does not know what a balrog is, either. I think I like these two very much. How can they feel so comfortable when they are barely even adults?”

“Valinor. It was like this, a long time ago. You should have seen how Felagund was in those early years. Everyone, really, but he was a model example, the way he took care of things. I was not a bit surprised that he was released from the Halls as early as he was.” Finya turned in the chair to make it easier for Glorfindel to tend to the other hand. “I like this color very much. In answer to your question earlier, it is refreshing to be unknown. It gives me a freedom I never really had before. Even when I was a child, I always felt like little more than a number in the line of succession.”

“I wish I could have been there to help you. But who am I kidding, even if I was old enough, could I have done anything? I could not help myself in too many ways. That was the past, though, and here is now, and you are stunning,” he admired. “You know the rules. No moving fingers! Hold still while I put these away. Are you happy with what we have done? Is there anything you wish to be different, Finya?”

“I am not sure. I suppose I have to wait until Manyanar finishes and then look into a mirror. This is strangely enough a time I am not feeling anxiety about looking into a mirror.” She kept nearly lifting her hands up, so used to gesturing with them while speaking. “I do not want you to blame yourself or what if about things, Fin. Remember--things happen for a reason. I do not think I would have been ready for this until after I resolved the...everything that Maedhros and I had to get through to be where we are. He was the only person I truly revealed myself to, and that would have lingered to be here, in this place with myself, without him. Does that make sense? It would have been an impossible accomplishment, and I needed to be the one who got here. I had to...be able to shed the other...facets. Fingon is...safety. Security. No one would dare approach him and make fun of him. Not the valiant one, the ex-king. He is revered. Feared, perhaps.” She looked down at her blue-glossed fingertips. “He protects me.”

“That much I can understand,” Glorfindel said, smiles set aside for the moment. “He protects me too, though I have regained my feet somewhat. I am not fully on them yet but that is not the point. Wherever Glorfindel the warrior is or is not, I have learned he can break down. And that when he did, you were his refuge. So it makes quite a lot of sense. Finya has many protectors now.” He smoothed a hand down the fabric of the dress, and the arm, delighting in what he felt and saw. “Fingon has a great deal of help.”

“And it is that generosity that allows Fingon to take a much needed rest tonight. It is...hard to be one person all the time when you are so much more. I mean, when I am. You know what I mean.” Fingers still left flat against the top of the stool, Finya leaned over to kiss Glorfindel’s cheek.

“I do, love.” Irrepressible sunniness bubbled over and Glorfindel carefully directed streams of air at his handiwork to help the nails dry faster, first blowing but then finding something like a fan he could safely use for the same purpose. They did not wait long before distant sounds hinted at the possible return of their friends.

“All I have to say after seeing what I saw up there,” began Manyanar, with Ninquitar giggling behind him, “is, damn, girl, he is TALL.”

And Finya laughed. It was the laughter Maedhros had once described to the others, a laughter unlike anything Glorfindel had ever heard before. “I like variety,” replied Finya.

“I think the nails are safe as long as you do not try to really do anything for about ten more minutes. You know, they are dry but not impervious just yet. Finya appears gorgeous to me but I will leave it to the experts,” said Glorfindel.

“I think all that is left is for me to finish the rest of your makeup, and for whatever additional sparkle you want.” Manyanar sat back down and brought out a palette of peach, orange, rose, and pink powders. “I wanted to talk to you a bit about what this place is, since it was mentioned before that you are unsure where you are, and what is even going on, and why I have a dressing room in the basement. Peacocks, as a term here, are all of the people you see getting up on the stage or walking around the place, who are the most beautiful of all the people. We primp, and we preen, we strut about, and we are a fancy lot. We take the forms of our spirit, not necessarily our body. You understand?”

“I think what you are telling me, and I picked up earlier, is that you are part of this...guild? Society?” Finya tried to figure out the correct term.

“It feels more like a family, but, yes. I am part of it. Ninquitar is as well, just as you see him,” said Manyanar. Ninquitar waved from where he was picking through different bracelets. “Only another peacock can invite someone into the flock.” Manyanar finished with Finya’s eyes and moved to apply a hint of rouge to her cheeks. “We only get one invitation. I used mine to bring Ninquitar into the group.”

“He feels...he has a side which is not ‘he’ or needs to be expressed otherwise? If it is not too intrusive of me to ask, I do not mean to pry,” Glorfindel asked. “Certainly do not answer if the question is crossing a boundary and accept my apology in advance if that is the case.” Sincere and very beautiful eyes regarded the much younger elf.

“Well, I do,” said Manyanar. “Ninquitar just…”

“I like the following things, but not necessarily in this order: Prancing, flowing fabrics I can wear, pastels, sparkly things, dancing with abandon, strutting around, both on and off stage, and expensive perfume.” Ninquitar hopped over to Glorfindel and extended his wrist. “This one is called ‘Morning Mist’ and it is divine. As for who I am, I am firmly and absolutely a man. A fabulous, homosexual man, but I am always a he. I can not exactly ‘understand’ how Manyanar is, but I embrace it, and I love him, and I love Cesanyë. I am, therefore, one of the cocks.” Ninquitar giggled. “Cock,” he repeated to himself with a shake of his head.

“I am one of the hens, but that does not mean the hens are subdued by any means. In fact, I think there are times we are far, far beyond the presence of the cocks. Except the master of ceremonies. Then again, this is his establishment,” said Manyanar.

“You mean...the hens here are visually flashy as opposed to actual peahens?” Glorfindel hazarded.

“Exactly. The hens here are more like queens. In fact...Ninquitar, my dear, can you please see to all of her accessorizing needs? I think Cesanyë wants to come out and play.”

“At your service!” Ninquitar trotted over with the box he had been delving into.

Manyanar set the lipstick that Finya had chosen into her hand. “I think you can handle this part. If you are wearing turquoise...violet. I think I will go with violet.” Manyanar collected a few items and disappeared behind the barrier.

Finya applied her lipstick while Ninquitar set up the boxes of jewels and put away the cosmetics. “So...does not look like you have pierced ears, but we do have a lovely selection of necklaces and bracelets. I am trying to figure out if you are more of a sparkling gems type or a shiny pearls sort of girl.”

“Um...I do not know,” admitted Finya. “My knowledge is limited; for a Noldo, I am...sadly lacking when it comes to this.”

“I do not suppose you have a tiara?” Glorfindel wondered aloud?

“Do we have a--Cece, he wants to know if we have ‘a’ tiara!” 

“Oh, stop,” came the voice from behind the screen.

“Several,” said Ninquitar. “Sapphire? Gold? Something else? Oh! We should redo your hair, because your braids are starting to come loose on one side. Do you want it to stay braided, or wear it loose?”

Finya set the lipstick down. “Braids are very much...Fingon. Sweet Eru, when I hear myself say it...how did I go on so long with the Sindarized form? Fingon. Sounds like something someone would name a horse. No wonder I am so fond of Káno.”

“Uhm...sweetheart, how would you feel about a rolled updo? It would be very elegant with the tiara and they are very easy to do.” Glorfindel searched the face of Ninquitar to detect whether or not he felt any sort of agreement.

“I have no idea what that means, but if it makes it look like more hair than less, I agree,” said Finya. “I made a very rash decision recently to chop off most of my hair, and it was another of my internal wars with myself, I think.” She sighed. 

“Wigs are always an option,” came a reply from behind the shielded area. 

“Wigs seem weird,” said Finya. 

“Ever try one?” Out from behind the curtain appeared Cesanyë, wearing a silver and violet gown. It was padded to give an appearance of a more feminine figure. The wig being worn with it was tinted violet with purple ringlets curled down one side to drape over her shoulder. “I cannot find my shoes, but I am not above walking up there barefooted.” 

“The style I suggested will smooth your hair to show off the tiara, so, bad idea,” Glorfindel shrugged apologetically. “It sounds like you want volume? Can you tell me more about how you have imagined it?”

“Maybe we should unbraid it first and see what we have to work with,” offered Ninquitar. When Finya nodded, Ninquitar looked at Glorfindel. “Would you mind helping me?”

“Not at all.” Nimble fingers that almost never were able to do this (and always wanted to) smiled as the unraveling began and the first wavy section was presented. This was akin to an invitation to dive into the cookie jar. If they had one, anyway. Cookies never made it long enough in the household to reach a cookie jar.

Cesanyë watched from a few steps away. “Honey, I hate to tell you this, but if we add too much more volume to what you already have, it is not going to just lift, it is going to be a bit of a frizzled mess. You have a lot of body in your hair. Braids might be a Fingon thing, but unless you consistently use something to condition and soften your hair, they probably need to be a Finya thing, too.”

“I know,” sighed Finya.

“There are different things that could be done to pin some of it up or pull some back so that you have the tiara and some length to it, if that is what you want,” said Ninquitar. “Or...we have a lovely selection of wigs.”

Finya frowned. “It seems strange wearing someone else’s hair.”

“I can accept that,” said Cesanyë.

“What do you think I should do, Fin?” Finya touched Glorfindel’s knee gently.

“Which is more important to you? A sense of being theatrical, stunning, show-stealing, or a coming out in the beauty of authenticity? Both are exquisite but they are different facets. You must choose your desire.”

When Finya did not answer, Ninquitar offered the following. “Close your eyes. Pretend you are alone in a room. There is a mirror behind you. Turn around. What do you see?”

The room stayed silent as Finya sat with her eyes closed. A smile emerged to the relief of them all, and she opened her eyes. “I remember the first time I wore ribbons in my hair. I kept doing it, and would wind them into the braids, but I really desired them to be loose sometimes. I think, as with the makeup, less is more. If I use a wig, that is not the true me.”

“What about a floral crown?” asked Ninquitar.

“The one with the ribbons,” added Cesanyë, and she went off to find it. “Golden flowers, blue ribbons--perfect,” came the call when it was found.

Glorfindel giggled. And giggled some more, until there was a hiccup. He managed to collect himself for about fifteen seconds, and the giggles started all over again, until he pinched his nose and stamped his feet lightly. When he resurfaced the second time, he had grabbed a loose piece of fabric and was fanning himself with gusto. “Sorry!” he apologized, his face a little blotchy.

Cesanyë, pretending this was all fine and normal, came back with the crown and a handful of hairpins. “Darling, since you are the hair expert, I leave this in your hands. I want to see if I can find any more blue ribbon. I thought just a thicker piece of ribbon tied behind your neck, instead of anything too extravagant.”

“Would you happen to have...a bell?” Finya’s cheeks glowed for a moment.

“I probably do...for the ribbon?” asked Cesanyë. Finya nodded. “Just one?” Another nod. “Let me see what I can find.”

“Glorfindel, what do you think? Leave it all loose, or pin one side back? Or both? Or maybe as you suggested, but then we tease a few locks out to spiral down in front of her ears.” Ninquitar was untangling the ribbons on the crown so that they would hang freely down the back.

The blond bit his lip. “Permit me to do the roll up. If you dislike it, it is one tug to release it. I only need some piece of fabric or ribbon, around which to roll your hair. Uhm…” His eyes searched the remnants of items that had been brought to sample, and he sighted a scarf of midtone blue which rapidly became the hub around which FInya’s hair was slowly and deliberately rolled; the tricky part was taking all of it up evenly in the first place. Once managed, he tied the two ends of the scarf in a simple square knot (but not too tight) and tucked in the ends. “Now, that is the style, from which we would tease out the strands to dampen just a little so they would go into a natural curl when moist. If you are displeased I take this down and we will go to seeing how you like one side pinned.”

“Let me put the crown on first,” suggested Ninquitar. He pinned it in place, and used a comb to extract just a few tendrils. “Now...mirror is over here.” Ninquitar took Finya by the hand and led her across the room, around the racks of clothing and boxes of props until they reached a full length mirror that had to have a basket of shoes kicked from in front of it. “Your thoughts, my lady?”

Finya approached slowly, lips parted slightly. She touched the handcrafted crystal flowers of the crown, then turned her head to the side. She touched the glass of the mirror, but did not speak.

The pleased smile remained on Glorfindel’s face, but the story his husband had told, that terribly painful tale of the corset and the discovery in his parents’ room as a youth...how much might have been different if he could have had this at that time instead of what he received? What had been gained by the mountains of invalidation? Suddenly a desire to reflect came over him. Some people seemed to want to learn and change. His father...something, though he still did not know for certain what. Even Fingolfin, though that too felt like an unanswered question. Was it enough? With a light shake of his head he set all that aside, observing Finya again. To have had anything to do with the expression he now watched marked this as one of the most privileged moments of both his lives.

“And here we are. One bell. I found blue velvet ribbon.” Cesanyë came behind Finya and brought the silver bell, at the center of the ribbon, around Finya’s neck. It was tied neatly in a bow at the back, leaving the silver bell to rest just below the bump at the center of Finya’s throat, which was now somewhat obscured by part of the ribbon. “I find ribbons and chokers can work well as an accessory and concealment.” There was a beaded scarf tied around Cesanyë’s neck. She kissed the top of Finya’s head and said, “They are going to love you, sugar.”

“When the lady is ready, her husband would be incredibly honored to escort her,” Glorfindel spoke softly, still enjoying the beauty of the transformation and finding his mind awash with memories of a not-wife in another time and intriguing thoughts on the nature of attraction.

“I have one more question for you,” said Ninquitar. “I can tell you are overwhelmed, and I am hoping it is a good overwhelmed. When we do arrive, I would actually like to request a temporary change in partners. You see, when I went up earlier, it was to tell the master that I believe I have found the person whom I wish to have join our...guild as you called it. You are a breathtaking peacock, if I am permitted to say so. However, I know that this is a very unexpected night, and it might be too much for you to be presented to the flock, so please do tell me if that would be too much.”

“I had dreams about this. This,” affirmed Finya, tapping the mirror. “This is me. This is what was in here all this time.” She tapped her forehead. “I saw it in my sleep. I tried to live it in secret. I tried to be it in my mind without others knowing.” She looked at each of them in turn in the mirror. “Thank you.”

“I am in both your debt,” Glorfindel told their new friends. “I also thank you. I would do anything for my husband but...you saw us in a restroom mirror.”

Ninquitar giggled. “We were sneaking peeks through the stall door because I told Manyanar ‘look at this, that one’s eyes match the other one’s hair!’ and then, you both just made it more interesting.”

“Wait until you try to figure out all our wedding rings,” Glorfindel giggled. “But right now nothing is to be about anything but Finya, my beautiful Finya. For a few moments I do not have to share her. But...peacocks fly, you know. It is time this one did. Finya?”

“Yes. Yes to going up there, and...yes, I think, to your offer, Ninquitar. I do feel safe here. I suppose I should ask first if there are specific duties or expectations or…” As Finya spoke, Ninquitar shook his head. “I will have more questions later, I suppose.”

“Indeed. And there will be more to share with you, but first, we need this peacock to hatch. Ready to come out of your shell, Finya?” asked Cesanyë.

“Ready,” said Finya as she took Glorfindel’s arm.

“Oh! One more thing!” Ninquitar bounced off and came back with a pair of light blue silky gloves. “I know your nails are painted, but I think these will make a nice dramatic effect to start, and you can remove them before you eat.”

“You seem to think I will be able to think about food,” said Finya, but she donned the gloves, which went just to her elbows. Her feet were still bare, as were Cesanyë’s, but neither seemed concerned. “I believe now I am ready.”

“Peacocks are natural browsers, darling. We do not think about  _ eating _ food, we think about nibbling, and I am going to have so many morsels to offer my Lady.” Glorfindel bent down to kiss her hand with eyes that held the promise of fun...and little tidbits with clever delivery methods. “Away we go.”


	4. Chapter 4

“You arrived at the best time,” the server said as she brought the quintet who entered into the main room of the Peacock. “We are about to begin the second half of a dance competition. You missed all of the amateurs; we will be seeing the finalists in a short time. Until then, there is music, there are menus… specials today are a lemon pepper breast of chicken with red potatoes and green beans, and a freshly caught lobster and noodles dish.”

“How freshly caught were the noodles?” asked Finrod. He was settling into his seat between Amarië and his brother, Angrod. Beside Angrod was Eldalótë, and between Eldalótë and Amarië was Edrahil.

“Just caught them this morning in the kitchen kettle,” answered the server. She went around the table placing cloth napkins on laps as she asked, “Any drinks to start?”

“Drinks, yes, and orders in just a moment before you go…” Finrod opened the menu and skimmed it. “Giant steak...giant steak...ah!” He tapped the spot that Amarië pointed to. “This one. Big steak...appropriately named… seasoned potatoes with butter unless the season is winter, salad with vinaigrette. Side of butter. Double side of butter, actually.” He handed the menu to his wife. 

“Lobster...what do you think about the lobster dish?” Angrod asked Eldalótë. She nodded, and he said, “Two for the lobster dish, please. And I will have red wine, strong, even though I am sure that does not go with the dish; the lady will have a glass of white. Something fruity and light.”

“Wine for me as well. You can bring both bottles of the wine for us to share,” said Amarië. “I think I am going to have this stuffed cod with mixed vegetables and garlic mashed potatoes. So many potato choices,” she remarked as she offered the menu to Edrahil.

He held up his hand and said, “I think the chicken special you mentioned sounds good for me. Do you have any flavored waters?”

“We have lemonade,” offered the server. “I could also bring you water and some fruit on the side.”

“That sounds refreshing. Citrus, if you have it. Lemon or orange, something like that,” Edrahil said.

The server nodded and looked back at Finrod. “Something to drink for you?”

“Oh! Yes...coffee?”

“Yes, sir. How do you take it?”

“Just coffee.”

“No butter on the side?”

“I had my buttered coffee this morning, thank you.”

“Very good. I will be back with your beverages in a moment,” the server said as another came over and placed a bowl of nuts onto the table before both left.

Amarië raised a brow at Finrod’s thoughtful look. “You are actually contemplating butter in your coffee.”

“How much different can it be from cream?” he wondered.

“There are actual people dressed as peacocks!” Eldalótë noted, charmed. “That is not an easy costume to make. Sewing one of those trains back together is not for the faint-hearted but certainly worth the result. Hm. I cannot imagine how long it took to harvest all of those feathers, and storage of such a garment must be a nightmare. Just a skirt would be a tremendous undertaking. Or even as a decoration...the colors are magnificent, do you not think?”

“I adore them,” agreed Amarië. “If Gildor has not already figured something out for himself, I am sure he has thought about it.” She then nudged her husband with her elbow and coughed.

“Hmm? Oh! Yes. Before we get into the meal, there was a reason I wanted to speak to you, Angrod. And, you as well, Eldalótë. So.” Finrod turned in his chair a little so that he could face Angrod. “You may have noticed Edrahil is spending a great deal of time with us as of late.”

Angrod shrugged. “No more than usual.”

“Perhaps not more than what you have observed, but he is living with us now.” Finrod adjusted his napkin. “The three of us are working out details, I guess you could say, but our relationship is one of a romantic nature. I wanted to tell you, and have you hear it from me, before you heard rumors. So there it is.”

Angrod blinked, regarding the three of them. “I am coming out of a very long time of having wrong ideas and even worse attitudes. I hope I am learning to change. You are telling us because you must be happy and that makes me, I think I speak for both of us because I am the one who has to have sense pounded in with a brick; Eldalótë has always had it – we are very happy for you. You are...polygamists, then? Or seeking to be? Like...my eldest and his family? Forgive me if I have that wrong. If I use words that are not correct please tell me; I ask for your patience. If you want to say more about how this came to be, you are family. I support you, all of you. I am learning what failure to support your family costs and that is not going to happen again. Welcome, Edrahil, I will gladly give you a hug if I will not make a spectacle doing so.”

With a genuine grin, Edrahil rose from his seat and came around to embrace Angrod, and then Eldalótë when she stood as well. “Thank you,” said Edrahil as he turned back to Angrod and he clasped his arm. “We considered saying something when we were all together for the wedding reception, but we did not want to take away from the excitement for Maedhros and Fingon, and we have not had the chance to tell many people yet.”

“Gildor and Maedhros know, and our busybody neighbor, but I have not even told Ama and Taryo yet,” said Finrod as Edrahil returned to his seat.

“Do you want me to be with you when you do tell our parents?” asked Angrod.

“No, I am not so worried about them. But, perhaps...perhaps when I speak with Turgon,” considered Finrod. “I am...admittedly putting off that discussion.”

“If you have a busybody neighbor you might not need to bother,” Angrod noted, eyebrow raised. “You know how Turgon likes to ferret out gossip.”

“And I have never been so glad for him living so far away,” Finrod said. 

Angrod frowned. “News travels.”

“If it does, then I will have been fated not to have told him myself.” Finrod did not look at anyone as he spoke. Amarië squeezed his knee.

There was a moment of silence before Angrod asked, “You are certain you will be well? If Turgon finds out before you intend him to? I know how close you are...and...we all know Turgon.”

“Our neighbor actually promised me that this is too personal for her to go telling the neighborhood, or anyone else,” said Edrahil. “I share enough details about everything else in life and my prior adventures in Middle-earth to keep her satisfied.”

Finrod waited until their beverages were delivered before answering Angrod. “I know that the more people know, the more difficult it will be for us. I know there are people who wholeheartedly believe what we are doing is wrong, and there will be others who agree with them simply to keep their own standing. It felt safe here, and...I preached to you once about acceptance, and I felt you were the best of the lot to start with.”

“You have it…” Angrod bowed his head. “And now I understand a tiny fraction of the dismay a world of people like me causes.” He shook his head. “I have a lot to make up for. I was not there for my son when it mattered but I can be here for you. If there is trouble, somehow, this time I am going to do what is right and stand against this prejudice and hatred. I am still so sorry.”

Finrod put an arm around his brother and gave him a sidelong hug. “I hope you will take that to heart and speak with Glorfindel more before you travel home. I feel as if his life is changing much faster and more substantially than mine and could use your support.”

Angrod smiled, and nodded, grasping his brother’s hand with his own. “It just seems like everything is happening, so much that I wonder what is next.”

A basket of warm bread was placed at the center of the table, and Edrahil motioned to the server. “Do you have a dessert menu?”

“We do, but if you tell me what you are looking for, I can offer suggestions. Already on to dessert before dinner?” she teased.

“Someone was very nervous today and skipped breakfast and lunch,” he said. “The someone was me. Cake?”

“Chocolate? Vanilla? Raspberry? Lemon? Something special?”

“What constitutes something special?” asked Edrahil.

“You,” interjected Finrod before the server could speak. He winked when Edrahil shook his head and smiled.

“We have a truffle cake and a multi-layered sponge with different fruit fillings.”

“This truffle cake,” interrupted Amarië. “How is it like a truffle?”

“There are thin layers of cake with thick layers of mousse, and on the top, a chocolate ganache. It tastes like a truffle. I highly recommend it if you like decadence,” said the server.

“I am joining team Dessert First,” decided Amarië. “Truffle cake.”

“Times two,” said Edrahil.

“Well do not expect me to be responsible,” Eldalótë grinned, “but I would like to try the sponge caked with the fruit, and my husband wants the truffle cake,” she told the server smugly without skipping a beat.

“I do?” Angrod asked.

Finrod raised an eyebrow at his brother.

“I really do! There is never enough chocolate, is there, dear?” he asked Eldalótë, taking her hand.

A big smile appeared on her face. Eldalótë leaned over and pecked Angrod on the cheek, blushing.

“Am I the only responsible one?” teased Finrod when the server asked if he, too, wished for cake.

“Coffee goes well with cake,” encouraged Edrahil.

“Oh, my…” Finrod looked at the server. “Peer pressure. I am not much for cake.”

“Pastry?”

“No.”

“Cookies?”

“No.”

“Brow--”

“He likes pudding,” said both Amarië and Edrahil before the poor server was subject to listing the entire menu.

“We have a vanilla custard that we can add a fruit swirl of your choice.”

“I think I shall try the custard,” said Finrod.

“What kind of fruit would you like? We have raspberry, peach, blue--”

“Just the custard, please and thank you.” When the server left, Finrod said, “I really am dull at times, I suppose.”

“You make up for it,” Angrod smiled. “You are far more exotic than I, brother. I think I hold the title for ‘boring.’”

“Nonsense. If any of us are boring, it was Orodreth. But, let us focus on the present. No doubt you have questions. We will do our best to answer,” said Finrod.

About to speak, Angrod turned to his wife. “Eldalótë? I am always the one running my mouth. Please go ahead.”

Angrod earned another very sincere smile from a very impressed spouse. “Well, I do not mean to interrogate you; surely you are entitled to privacy but maybe it would be good to clearly know a few things. I suppose kind and unkind questions are an inevitability. So if I may ask, you all, each of you love the other two? Or something else?”

“Oh, yes,” answered Amarië unabashedly. “Edrahil and I knew each other when we were much, much younger--before Felagund was even born, actually. While we did not have a romance then, there was an attraction. However, his parents arranged a marriage for him, and I later met Felagund. Circumstances recently changed, and we decided to see where our feelings led.”

“And the circumstances...Edrahil, your marriage, something must have happened? Do you wish to tell about that? Certainly you may decline.”

“Oh, where to start...oh, cake.” He waited as the desserts were distributed.

“Berry cake...custard… and truffle cake for the rest. Like sex in your mouth. Enjoy!”

Edrahil watched the server leave and looked back at the dessert. “Not sure I still want this.”

Amarië was already on her second bite. “Oh, yes, you do.” 

Edrahil took a small sample, which was followed by a larger forkful. “I mean, not sex exactly, but this is damned good.” He took another bite and then said, “My wife...ex-wife--she was seeing someone, unknown to me. She chose him, and my family chose her, and...I found myself in a situation where I was free to explore possibilities I thought were impossible.”

“Your own family froze  _ you _ out even though you were the wronged party?” Eldalótë tilted her head. “Am I missing something?”

Edrahil set down his fork and folded his hands. “My wife discovered something I thought I had kept hidden. I am bisexual, though I never acted upon my feelings. I was faithful to my wife. Part of her decision to leave was due to her wanting a child. I have no desire to be a father. We were at an impasse.”

“Did your parents wed you two to each other, aware of this circumstance? Your desires pertaining to children, I mean. No one can condemn another for anything but their actions.” 

“I think it safe to explain a little further, now that certain aspects of the lives of others are known,” said Edrahil, but he kept his voice down. “When Amarië and I were attending Sarati, Fëanor and Erestor were there, too. The two of them caused quite a scandal when they were caught kissing one night. All of the parents at the time were informed of the transgression, though the names were kept secret. My parents began acting immediately. When we all went home for the holiday, I walked into my wedding. I had not met her, did not know her name, and was never asked in advance. My parents thought they were preventing the possibility that I might become homosexual simply from being around others who were. So I married a woman I did not know, and at first we only spent the holidays together; I continued to attend the school until I finished. She lived with my parents. When the possibility came to travel to Middle-earth, I told her I would call for her once we were settled there, same as many others who left their spouses and sweethearts here. I obviously never did. When I was reborn, my parents raised me the second time with her around always. I felt a sense of duty to stay with her when my memories were returned.”

“You have lived a nightmare and this was just as unfair to your former wife. I...I really should not speak. I do not know your parents. But I am a mother and at no time were they ever thinking of what you needed or how to love you. I am so sorry, Edrahil. You have family now.” Standing, she went around the table to embrace him.

While Edrahil accepted a second hug from Eldalótë, Finrod leaned over and put his hand upon Angrod’s shoulder. “Remember all this when next you encounter your son. He did much to try to be what you wanted; he needs your love and acceptance.”

Angrod appeared confused, but nodded.

“Attention! Everyone, your attention!” came a voice from the stage. People in the room who were mingling began to find their seats. “We are about to start the second half of our dance competition! If you are a finalist and have not already submitted the dance you will be performing from the list at the hostess booth, please be sure to do so! And while we wait for that, we have a special surprise for you tonight! We have with us a very special guest--she is debuting here tonight! As you know, our flock grows slowly, but steadily, and the rank of peacock is not gifted lightly. This lady has been in her egg for a long time, waiting to hatch, ready to bloom into the beautiful flower she is. This is her first night in public, so please, I should not need ask, but be kind, show love to her, give her a warm welcome. Accompanied by long-time peacock Ninquitar, I present to you the very newest hen, the lovely Lady Finya!” 

“Finya? Where have I heard that before?” wondered Finrod as he looked over the back of his chair, for he had been seated with his back somewhat to the stage.

Very slowly, steps hesitant, Finya walked onto the stage with Ninquitar as an escort. Meanwhile, Glorfindel was just arriving back at the table with Maedhros and Erestor, though he had with him Cesanyë, who introduced herself to the pair at the table, and added, “I believe you are in possession of my riding crop, sir. I look forward to seeing just what you do with it.”

Glorfindel grinned giddily. “Both of you – Cesanyë and her husband Ninquitar set Finya free. What they are saying, on the stage. He means _ our _ Finya. Please go see!”

Many others, including all the staff who could be spared, were migrating to the area in front of the stage. There was clapping and some cheering as Ninquitar brought Finya to the center of the stage. Somewhere along the way to the stage, Cesanyë had handed Finya a fan of peacock feathers, which was used now to partially obscure her face from the crowd.

“What a charming lass...how are you feeling tonight, Finya?” asked the master of ceremonies.

“Nervous?” She clung a little tighter to Ninquitar. The fan had been lowered so that she could speak clearly. “I never did this before.” Her voice trembled and she seemed on the verge of tears.

“Oh, my dear, there is nothing to be nervous about here! We are all delighted to have you here tonight, right, my friends?” called out the master. The crowd at the stage cheered.

Maedhros gawped at Cesanyë in a combination of hope, wonder and inability to process what had just been said, and urged all of them to join those in front of the stage. The riding crop already occupied a place under his shirt; his height could easily accommodate such storage. In moments they were part of the number observing and applauding someone hidden behind a feather-fan.

“She is with my husband,” Cesanyë explained quietly to Maedhros, who towered just behind him. “Glorfindel helped with all of this, of course.”

“Barely,” the blond murmured with self-deprecation.

“She…” Maedhros said slowly, staring at who stood there and that a dress was worn...jeweled ornament, so familiar and yet not…”you do not mean…”

But it was, and Erestor, who managed to get wedged between Maedhros and Glorfindel in the crowd, grab each by the arm. He grinned ear to ear. “She did it,” he told them excitedly. Caught up in the merriment, he cheered with the others.

On stage, the master was asking another question. “Tell us a little about yourself, my dear. I heard you like dancing.”

Finya nodded, having raised the fan back up again.

“Do you have any other hobbies, Finya?”

The fan was lowered to waist-height. “Cooking, I...I suppose, and, uhm...some...some gymnastics. Not in this dress though,” she added hastily. That gained light, polite laughter from the audience, and even someone calling out ‘We love you, Finya!’ which prompted more applause. Her eyes glistened, but she managed not to start crying.

At the table, Finrod mused. “That certainly looks like Maedhros over there, unless there are two incredibly tall redheads on this island...in the company of a golden-headed person and someone wearing a veil. Hmmm, it looks like we all chose the same establishment tonight. Gildor must be around somewhere. I wonder where Fin–” now he peered intently at the beautifully tall woman on the stage. “Brother, dear, you may have just gotten your answer.”

“Answer to what?”

“You wondered what was next. Unless my eyes deceive me, that is our dear cousin, akin to us like a brother, on that stage.” Finrod looked to Amarië. “Or should I instead use the word sister?”

“I think you will have to ask her what her preference is,” said Amarië.

“That is…” Angrod stopped speaking, now really seeing the person on stage. “But...he is the best archer there is...the best athlete...uhm...can...what am I not understanding? Because I thought I finally got it but clearly there is...uhm...help…” he trailed off.

“She,” said Edrahil simply from across the table. “Your relative, whatever term you wish to go with, is expressing what is inside. Some individuals feel that their physical form does not match how they are within, whether all of the time or some of the time. You will need to speak with her if you want details; it is different for everyone. I cannot give you names, but I have worked with various people who are like this.”

Eldalótë tried to concentrate on what Edrahil was saying, but kept looking to the stage. “It is a disorder, then?” she asked, knowing his field to be psychology.

Edrahil frowned. “I would not use that word,” he cautioned. “This is not something that comes about due to a condition, such as...post-traumatic stress. This...just is. This could be a part of who Findekáno is, or it could be who Findekáno just is but has kept hidden. If you wish to know more, you would need to ask. Not...not right here tonight now,” he further warned as gently as possible.

“This is different...than being homosexual?” Angrod asked, trying to clarify.

The trio exchanged several looks among each other, and finally Edrahil waved down a server. “May I have paper and something to write with?” He thanked the server as he left and said, “Teaching moment! I think it might be easier with visuals.”

On the stage, more was being announced. “And how long have you been playing harp, my dear?” asked the master of ceremonies.

Caught off-guard at having said nothing about this, but recalling that it was mentioned briefly in the basement and that her new friends may have slipped it to the master who was obviously a conductor, Finya used the fan for its intended purpose and said, “Longer than you have been alive, I imagine.” The light jesting was causing the crowd to laugh at something intended, and while she did not expect to hear laughter directed at her for any reason, somehow it was an odd defense mechanism. If she could not tell the reason for the laughter, she could suspect it was her humor, and all was well. 

“I hope we might convince you to sit in with our orchestra later,” said the master. “For now, though, let me introduce the rest of our proud peacocks, who, as is customary, will judge all of our beautiful dancers tonight! Of course we have Ninquitar here, but the rest of you, fly on up here, my flock!”

“Excuse me,” Cesanyë said, giving Glorfindel a curtsey. “I must fly away now.” She pretended with arm movements and a graceful walk to be fluttering to the stage.

Maedhros and Erestor leaned in at once. “Dish,” Erestor grinned. Maedhros listened, but kept his eyes on Finya at all times.

Glorfindel laughed. “Just get in my head, beautiful, or we will be here until closing time, and share with Maedhros. I have never had so many blessed improbabilities happen in so short a space of time. At least, not when all of them were good ones. I am so proud of her. Him. Both of them.”

“I cannot believe he finally did this,” murmured Maedhros as he watched the other well-dressed members of the...staff? Team? Club? He would find out soon enough. They were coming to the stage and one by one going to Finya, offering hugs and saying things to her that caused her to nod and sometimes carefully dab at the corners of her eyes. “I cannot recall to you how many times he would wake up from dreams where he had done something like this, and he would tell me, and by the end of his tale I would be holding him as he wept and told me he would never be so brave.” Those tears were being shed silently by Maedhros now. “He did it. She did it,” he corrected softly. He gave one of his recognizable whistles. Everyone looked (or covered their ears); Finya was the only one he cared about. As soon as her eyes were on him, she tensed. He blew a kiss and mouthed ‘I love you, princess’. She smiled and blew a kiss back.

“Not fair,” Erestor whined. “I cannot whistle like that.”

“Every eye in this place, hers included, will be on you soon enough,” Maedhros growled into his ear, too quietly for Glorfindel to hear. “Do not worry.”

A chill of want and anticipation ran up Erestor’s spine, effectively silencing him. Taking Glorfindel’s hand, he held it in hope he could not now speak but also in peace; regardless, he loved and was loved in return. While they waited, Finya stood radiant, enticing. Really it was all too much. A dreamy sigh came from under the veil.

Back at the table, Edrahil was clearing items in the middle aside so that he could begin his lesson. “Alright. Before I get into explaining everything you want to know about, let me start with something you already know about.” He managed to write upside down in a mostly legible manner so that the others could read. “Food. How do we describe it? Appearance...flavor...and...aroma.” He drew three lines. “Now, appearance, you have fine quality dining on one end, and you have rustic on the other. You can sort of rate something depending on where it is on the scale, right? So...this cake. Where would you place it on this scale?”

“Uhm,” Angrod stared down at the chocolate cake in front of him. “I...more toward quality dining, I think,” he answered Edrahil, feeling suddenly twenty years old, at lessons again and most uncomfortable.

“Alright, now, look at the cake your wife has. Would you say it is more to the left or right of your piece on this line?” Edrahil made a dot for the chocolate cake and labeled it as such on the paper.

“More rustic but not by much so, a little more to the right?”

Another dot was placed on the page. “Now, look at the custard that Felagund has. Where would you place that?”

“More to the rustic side but not all the way to the right. Maybe three quarters of the way,” Angrod replied.

“Great. Now, taste. What would you put on the two ends of this spectrum?” Edrahil drew another line but withheld from labeling it.

“Sweetness? How sugary it is? The dessert, I mean.”

“So… sugar on one side, and...what do you want on the other?”

The golden brows knitted together. “Not sugar?”

‘Not sugar’ was written on the other side. “Now, where do we put salty on this?”

The stormy blue eyes stared, considering. “You must draw another line; salt is salt and has nothing to do with sweet.”

“But I only have one line. I also need to know where to put savory, and tart.”

“I would have to rearrange what I said before; had I known that I would have organized my answers differently,” Angrod complained.

“Alright. Do not fret; I am not actually going to make you figure that out.” Edrahil flipped the paper over. He drew another line. “This is where it becomes more complicated. If I put homosexual on this end and heterosexual on this other side, I cannot also place gender on the same line. There are a lot of things I cannot place on this line, and in fact, I would argue--though some of my colleagues would disagree--that a simple spectrum is a terrible way to categorize any of these topics. Sexuality, gender, and romanticism are seen by some to be very easily identified and defined. For others, it might not be a point on the line. It might be this,” he said, drawing a circle encompassing parts of the line. He shaded in the circle. “It could be this.” He made several dots and connected them with a bouncing line. “Someone can be a person who feels comfortable exhibiting the characteristics of one gender at some points, and another at other times, but they might not, for the purposes of what is seen--the physical embodiment they have--and who they are attracted to, you would observe them and say they are heterosexual or bisexual or homosexual, and that is completely separate from how they identify their person.” He set down the quill and motioned to Angrod and Eldalótë. “Questions?”

Angrod shook his head a little. “What I think I am hearing is, you are telling me that this goes much further than ‘homosexual’ and ‘heterosexual’ which is...what I thought there was, and it took a lot for me to try to reconcile that much. I am not trying to be difficult. I am just so...how I am...that imagining the things you talk about are hard for me though I know you would not make this up. I had no idea it was this complicated.”

There was a moment of silence during which it was evident there was discussion happening privately. Amarië nodded; Finrod eventually shrugged a little uneasily, and Edrahil spoke. “I think we can give you a perfect example. I am bisexual. I have desires to be with both men and women. I want to do that as a man. I identify very strongly as male. Now, there are times, because of how I was raised, culturally, that I will go out to the market or walk around the house wearing a skirt or some sort of a wrap, because that was just what everyone wore when I was growing up. There were not such defined roles at that point, and pants were this weird invention not everyone was sure about yet. They took a lot longer to make, and you had to measure better, and I do not want to get away from the heart of the conversation and distracted on fashion, but it was different then. No one even thought in terms of gender as much, because we used names. We were really dedicated to calling each other by our names, and that was part of the reason there were mother names and father names and other names besides, because it told you how the person knew you.”

Amarië folded her hands and looked straight at her brother-in-law. “If someone who did not know me well observed me, they would probably say I was a heterosexual woman, and they would be...somewhat correct. What most people do not know, and what I consider to be no one’s business unless I want them to know, is that I have a very strong male persona. I do not reveal this to most people. I do not care what they think. What does that mean from a sexuality standpoint? It means I have times I am just as you would suspect, and there are times when my relations in my bedchamber are more along the lines of what would be expected from two homosexual men. None of this has any bearing on my day-to-day endeavors; who I am is something I only have felt a need to share with my lovers and my closest friends. Some might think it deceptive, but I really do not care what they think.” She turned to look at Finrod, who had listened to the other two with his elbow on the table and his chin resting in his hand. 

“Angrod,” said Finrod without looking at him, “I am a homosexual. I never had the balls to tell you that because...just never did.” He shrugged. “Oh, and male. Definitely that. Homosexual, I wanted to be a father, Amarië and I got along really well...” He shrugged again. Amarië handed him her handkerchief, just in case.

Eldalótë sat with her lips parted, and Angrod folded his hands and rested his chin on top of them. “Why  _ would _ you tell me? I never went out of my way to show support for homosexuals because I did not. I have just made an even greater mess of everything than I ever knew. All this time...what do I even say to you? Finrod...bemoaning this helps no one, I know. Well, if anyone says I word to you I suppose I will have to pummel them and go to prison to make up for it. I have been a disgrace but I am good for something,” he said cheerfully. Eldalótë rolled her eyes, but she smiled.

Finrod folded the handkerchief several times. “Excuse me. I need a moment to myself.” He left the table, with Amarië barely able to slide her hand supportively along his arm as he went.

“I...do not want to be, uh...forcing myself into family matters,” said Edrahil carefully, “But I think you should know that that was very difficult for Felagund. He has not told your parents. He has not told his son. Yes, Gildor knows about our relationship, but...not that. Not that his father was a closeted homosexual across two lives. I do not think Felagund was looking for you to respond by letting him know you would seemingly unwillingly punch someone, if I interpreted that correctly.”

“Dinner!” announced the server amidst the awkwardness, and soon there were plates of food in front of everyone, and a plate awaiting Finrod’s return.

Angrod closed his eyes. “Excuse me then also before I lose sight of him. I am awkward and crass but I do love my brother. Thank you, Edrahil. I need all the help I can get.” Leaving his napkin on his seat, he hastened after his brother, doing his best to weave past as opposed to crash into other patrons. In the hallway leading to the restrooms he caught up with him, reaching for an arm. “Finrod, please!” Without a thought, he lightly pinned him against the wall, meaning only to arrest his progress, and saw the tears streaming down his cheeks. Stricken, Angrod pulled him into a desperate and very intimate embrace. Those passing by were given the impression of a lovers’ difficulty and the pair found the corridor emptied rather swiftly, though Angrod was oblivious to this.

“I am an idiot! An insensitive idiot and so sorry and please forgive me! I want to be what you need me to be but I do not know what that is though I wish I did because I love you and would do anything at all for you. If I talk too much I will screw this up but I want you to know that...that must have taken so much courage. You are more than ten of me and...I mean it, I will support you. Everything I have learned that pulled my head out of my ass was because of you and I owe you...everything,” he whispered, beginning to cry. Though Finrod was taller, his head was held in a powerful lock into the crook of Angrod’s neck. What he lacked in any sort of elegance he made up for in sincerity.

Finrod held on and listened, and nodded a few times. Eventually, he pressed the handkerchief into Angrod’s hand. As he straightened up with his back to the wall and watched Angrod dry his own eyes, Finrod said, “I do not want you to think this is all you that I kept this to mostly to myself. Yes, I worried about what you and our brothers would say, but there is also Artanis, who is hard to read, and our cousins--think about it, Angrod. Who is my best friend? Turgon. Think about Turgon. Can you imagine me...coming out to him? Honestly, though, I was not entirely sure myself until Edrahil and I started to talk about it, I have only ever told Amarië. I am...not comfortable detailing it here, but...I was like this a long time without entirely realizing it.”

Angrod nodded. “We are not thinking about Turgon. Your food will get cold. Come, brother. Everything is better on a full stomach.” Looking up one more time, he gave a last hug. “I love you.”

“Thank you.” Finrod smiled. “I love you, too.”

Up at the stage, the first couple to compete was being called up, and the order was being read. Maedhros and Erestor held hands tightly as they waited for the announcement of when they would compete. Team after team was read--and finally, at the last, Master and Servant was announced. This caused Finya to look over at their table. Unable to shout to them, she merely flailed her hands a little in some sort of excitement (at least, Maedhros hoped it was excitement), as Maedhros and Erestor tried to relax. “Part of me wanted to go early, but maybe this is good. We get to see what everyone else is doing,” said Maedhros.

“And turn me around and put me back in my place to get me ready,” Erestor smiled sweetly, allowing the provocation to return to his voice. “Shall we discuss the riding crop, Master?”

“Oh, I definitely think we should discuss the riding crop!” agreed Glorfindel merrily.

Maedhros only smiled.

Erestor sat in his chair, gratefully seeing the full glass of water and helping himself, and laying his free hand on Glorfindel’s thigh.  _ Fin, there is something I want you to know. Something that...happened. Is happening. Is...I do not understand but I do not in any way wish to hide from you but I think Maedhros should be the one to present to Fingon. Finya. _

_ Ress? _

_ The time you were both away was…  _ Erestor closed his eyes and sipped his water, carefully sharing his memories and feelings with his husband.  _ I would like to ask you to please not speak to Maedhros now? He wants to approach both you and Finya later, but the relationship I have with you is not the same as the one I have with our husband. We share a deeper past and to you I owe a greater debt of honesty. If there is anything you have to say to me now, I will abide by your words. _

Glorfindel peered around to get a good look at Maedhros. He was eating from the bowl of nuts and watching the couple that was dancing, seemingly oblivious of the secret conversation happening right next to him.  _ Complete honesty...it has been a tickle in the back of my mind to think about the good times that Gildor and I have when I wake up now in a room where he is again. I shoved those feelings aside, buried them deep, but even a seed buried deep can sometimes sprout when the earth erodes away from the tears of time. _

_ My poetic nature is rubbing off on you. _

_ Most definitely.  _ It took quite a feat so that Glorfindel did not laugh at the comment and alert Maedhros of what was going on.  _ I would be hypocritical not to give you my blessing. The past few weeks have been enlightening in so many ways. Love is in our nature, and especially in yours. _

_ I thank you Fin, but more than that...I do not understand where this has come from. I feel...struck. Hard. Wanting in a way that...please watch over me? I am going to listen to you. I fear making mistakes, I fear the intensity of emotions that I cannot explain. The last time I felt like this it came out of a wooden box and went right up my nose.  _ His hand grasped Glorfindel’s thigh more tightly.  _ I am praying and will keep on praying, and I need you because I do not trust myself. Please help me? _

_ I am here for you. I cannot say that I always was, but I am here for you now, and I have no intention of going anywhere.  _ Glorfindel took Erestor’s hand and kissed it several times, then held it to his chest.

On Erestor’s other side, Maedhros smirked, looked at the pair, and then whispered to Erestor, “You just told him.” It was not an accusation; it was more teasing, as if joking that Erestor was so excited he could not wait.

Erestor rose, and made himself comfortable in Maedhros’ lap, resting both arms loosely around his neck. “The old Erestor was evasive, secretive, and had a mind twisted by shame into knots of lies and distortions,” he said quietly. “This one is doing everything he can to be honest and transparent. Please believe me that you are getting the better of the two.” Leaning up, he kissed the beautiful redhead gently but pressed, pleading for more than the previous very chaste exchanges.

It was evident what Erestor desired, but Maedhros only returned his request with his own subdued kiss. “Please believe me that I wish to offer you more, but only after I have spoken to Findekáno. I have a feeling that the results will be very positive.” 

Erestor accepted the kindly rebuke and lowered his eyes, turning to rest his head against Maedhros’ chest. When reassuring arms enveloped him a full peace graced the sun-kissed face.

Glorfindel tilted his head, never having seen such a response from his mate, ever. And now he too wondered since this was not only Erestor; Maedhros seemed equally smitten. His gaze returned to Finya with a heart full of warmth and gladness.

With Angrod and Finrod back at the table, the others felt allowed to begin the meal. Finrod did get delayed slightly from everyone at the table individually coming over to hug him, but he was rewarded with the juicy cut of steak he had ordered. “Did you know,” he said, his verbal abilities returning, “that the cattle here on the island are treated with reverence? They massage them, provide musicians in the fields, and even feed them beer as part of their regular diet.”

“Are they pretty cows?” Eldalótë asked. “I saw some really lovely ones once, white with black spots all over them, just adorable. Then again, Finrod, did Gildor not keep a pet...oh, what was it, it too was white with black spots all over it, also adorable, and it was fluffy, what was the name of the creature? About as large as a medium sized dog, and very pretty eyes. Do you know which I mean? I am sorry, I cannot recall the name of it, it made a lovely whistling sound when it was pleased.”

“He had a marmot that whistled, but he could carry it with him in a satchel, so it must be something larger you are thinking of. Did you know he was talking about adopting a kangaroo? Before he came to the island for a visit, he asked me if I thought I could help him make an appropriate enclosure. I reminded him that he and Maedhros travel a lot and have limited property space,” related Finrod.

“I would really like to see Fingon walk out in the morning and find a kangaroo in the house,” Angrod chuckled. “I mean, I would pay to see that.”

“Angrod!” Eldalótë scolded, though she was giggling and not making a very good job of it. 

“I guess we could ask Finya what she thinks of that after the dancing is over. She has to come off that stage at some point, and I intend to go over and give her a big hug.” Amarië stole a bite from Edrahil’s plate. “I will have to try the other special cake next time.”

“I wonder if we can have second dessert,” mused Edrahil.

“According to Master Gamgee, it is impolite not to have second dessert,” said Finrod.

“I can try to find a server but the dance contest they are having seems to have the place abuzz,” Angrod observed, trying to parse out which of the very exotically dressed persons (which to his eyes was everyone there) might work at the establishment.

“You have barely touched dinner. Eat some of that first before you start thinking about dessert,” scolded Amarië.

“Yes, mother,” answered Edrahil. He was poked at with her fork and laughed. “I see Finya, I caught sight of Maedhros earlier, because, how can you not? Perhaps only they are here tonight? I think this would still be in the realm of their post-wedding celebration. I think I saw Glorfindel and Erestor, but now I am not so sure. Maybe everyone else stayed home.”

Everyone else, of course, was Gildor. Gildor had, at present, played seventeen games of hide and seek, made four snacks, read a dozen picture books, and been both a fierce dragon to battle and a majestic horse to ride upon. He wanted to be something else.

He wanted to be a napping elf.

“We should go inside and have quiet time,” suggested Gildor. “We could open a window and listen to birds in a nice, quiet, dark room and try to guess which birds we hear.”

“No, that sounds boring. We should go on a walk in the woods! We can pick mushrooms!” shouted Eruglar.

Gildor looked at the terrier who huffed. Even Dog-Dog looked tired. “Or...we could close our eyes and see who can keep their eyes closed the longest.”

Asfaloth walked past just then singing to himself quietly on his way to...somewhere, and spotted them, deciding to change his course. “Hello!” he greeted, not too loudly (for him). “Have you had a fun afternoon? Lots of play on such a nice day? It is beautiful I say, in my horsey way! How are you, Eruglar?” The limpid eyes blinked.

“I had fun but I would like more fun, please,” insisted Eruglar. “Do you want to go out mushroom picking with us?” he asked with great excitement. Behind him, Gildor, with large tired eyes, shook his head hoping that Asfaloth understood that, no, mushroom hunting was not a thing anyone should want to do right now.

The horse regarded elf, boy and dog. “We are going for a ride,” the horse said slowly. “Gildor, Eruglar can ride in front of you, please.” In all of a second, there was a gorgeous white stallion, standing calmly. He even knelt down gracefully on his forelegs so that Gildor would not need to mount from the ground with no saddle.

“Yay!” Eruglar scrambled up onto Asfaloth’s back. Dog-dog decided he did not want to go anywhere, and curled up on the welcome mat in case he had to greet anyone. Gildor stretched, hearing a few cracks as he groaned, and then slowly climbed onto Asfaloth’s back. At least he would not be the one walking for a little while.

The horse set off at a walk toward the field in front to find the river, mostly wanting a long stretch of relatively smooth ground upon which to travel. When it was possible to do so, he adopted a strange ambling gait designed not to jostle the rider that was a little faster than a walk, gliding along, allowing Eruglar time for the novelty to wear off. For Asfaloth this was as easy as breathing, and hopefully was comfortable for the clearly tired Gildor.

It only took twenty minutes of wandering and yawning for both riders to fall asleep. Every now and then, Gildor would wake with a start, but as soon as he saw that he and Eruglar were safely on Asfaloth’s back, he would doze off again, an arm around his son to keep him from sliding off. Gildor had been on the back of a horse while sleeping ample times; while it had not happened for over an Age, his body still remembered how to sit to stay upright.

Asfaloth had gauged the whole thing to turn toward the house again as soon as Eruglar had begun to fade, always with one eye on his riders in case they began to slip. Now he patiently waited at the door until he managed to wake Gildor with swishes of his tail. Really he felt sorry; the elf was trying very hard. Foals were difficult, and that was why he left them to the mares – he was not as unaware as the elves sometimes seemed to think.

“Oh...home sweet home,” whispered Gildor as he carefully dismounted and then retrieved Eruglar. “I have no idea how Mae Mae did this--and twins, no less!” he added as he stayed quiet and carried Eruglar into the house. “Maybe I am not such a good father after all. Maybe I waited too long to try.”

“You are doing well,” Asfaloth encouraged, petting Gildor comfortingly on the shoulders. “You do not have a routine established and that is part of it. You are also on your own right now; there is a lot of experience under this roof but they are all not here. Take him now and rest. I would make you something but it would be sugar tea and carrots. Unless you want that?” he asked hopefully.

“I think we are going to take a father-son nap.” Gildor started up the stairs and paused to look over the banister. “Thank you, Asfaloth. For the ride and for the advice.”

“Glad I could help,” he waved, drifting into the kitchen and wondering if any of the others had added more sugar cubes to the bowl before they had gone to town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original page for the art featured in this chapter can be found at https://www.deviantart.com/annellspethraven/art/Peacock-865895097?ga_submit_new=10%3A1609626737


	5. Chapter 5

“Sugar, you are just the sweetest person I have ever met up on this stage. Why, I could just eat you up!” 

Finya hardly had time to think about being nervous with all of the people she was meeting. “Thank you so much,” she said to the person whose name she had already forgotten. In fact, the names of just about everyone she had met were long lost, but the sentiments were real, and those would be remembered. Someone touched her arm, and she turned to see the master of ceremonies behind her.

“I thought you might like to announce the final couple coming up to dance. The song they requested has some substantial harp playing in it--do you know this one?” he asked as he showed her the slip of paper they had filled out.

“Perfect,” she said as she read it with a grin.

“Is that a yes?” he asked.

“Sorry--yes, if you have a harp for me to play. I did not exactly come prepared.”

“Easily taken care of. Now, if you would please make the announcement, and I will then show you to the harp where you can play for us.”

Finya stepped to the edge of the stage. clutching the paper. “Our final couple this evening will be performing to ‘Utúlie'n aurë!’. Please welcome to the floor Master and Servant.” She stepped back as applause rose up for the remaining dancers, and was ushered to the area where the orchestra was assembled.

She found herself face-to-strings with one of the largest harps she had ever encountered. It was literally larger than she was.

“Music on the stand there! Enjoy yourself--do not look so nervous!” said the master of ceremonies, and he was away again before Finya could speak.

She stared at the harp without moving forward. “Shit,” she finally said under her breath. 

While most in the room were watching Maedhros and Erestor moving to the center of the room, Finrod had his eyes on Finya. “Something the matter?” asked Amarië, noticing the distraction.

“Yes. If the server comes back, see if they can refresh my coffee.” He stood up and pushed his chair in, and then strolled around the edge of the room until he found stairs to the side which seemed to lead one backstage. He was surprised that he was just allowed to walk behind the billowing teal and gold curtains without anyone questioning him. When he found a break in the heavy drapery, he peeked out, and saw Finya a few feet away. He judged the distance, walked a few paces while continuing to remain hidden, and then hissed, “Finya. Can you hear me?”

Completely shocked, Finya spun halfway around, looked up, and scanned the audience. “I hear you...Gildor?”

“No, close, good guess, we do sound alike. ‘Tis Felagund. Behind the curtain. I came to help.”

“Oh, thank Eru! Where the fuck do I even put my hands on this beast?”

Finrod bit his lip. “On the strings, obviously. Now, listen, there is little time. First, breathe. Then, pluck the strings. Pretend you are checking the tune. You have a good ear. You can match strings to the harps you are used to. Stay away from the long ones; obviously, those are different from what you have on your smaller harps.”

“I thought the most terrifying event of the evening was going to be coming up here like this. Now it is playing badly and causing Maedhros and Erestor to lose,” she whimpered as she plucked the nearest string and tried to hear the sound over the commotion of applause and other musicians getting ready to play.

“That is not going to happen, Finya! You usually play what, a thirty-six or thirty-nine string harp? Come here, now, sit, and snuggle against this darling which I must say for all its gilded splendor cannot half match how you appear right now, cousin-dear-of-whom-I-am-so-proud-I-could-cry. You know what to do, hug it like your best friend, and find your same thirty and some odd strings nearest your ephemeral visage and check the tuning,” Finrod urged. He reached a hand through the break in the curtain, giving the octave nearest him a tentative pluck.

The appearance of an arm and just an arm poking through the stage curtain and withdrawing again could not help but cause Finya to smile, and she sat down and took a deep breath. She plucked a string; it sounded just as she expected it would. “Alright. I just need to count...see where I should end...dammit, I should have taken you up on your offers to teach me how to play these big ones. ‘But how can I carry that and go fight a dragon?’” she queried, in a mocking tone that was obviously to be her imitating her masculine persona.

“Oh, they are just little harps with more harp added on. You are going to ignore any of it past the parts you are not used to playing, or do you want me to tell you which string to tie my scarf around as a stopping point? Nobody tells a lady what she cannot do.”

“I think I can do this. I see where they change now.” Finya tugged one of the gloves off with her teeth, and then, realizing as the first was hanging from her mouth that perhaps it was not the most gracefully executed move, she dropped the first into her lap and removed the other while blushing in a far more ladylike manner. “How long have you been here? Or do you just show up when there is a damsel in distress with a harp?”

“A while. I am here with Angrod, Eldalótë, Edrahil and Amarië. I came to...I came to come out to my brother and his wife,” he said carefully. “I only anticipated telling them about the polyamorous relationship I am in, but I ended up coming a whole lot further out.”

“It must be the position of the moon or the alignment of the stars,” Finya replied. “I did not exactly intend to be in this position tonight, but here we both are.” Another few strings were plucked. “So...Enedrion?”

“Yes, Edrahil,” Finrod whispered firmly, hardly surprised that she had guessed. “Edrahil tried to commit suicide at his family’s insistence and almost succeeded. That part is a conversation for later, in private. For now I want to hear Finya play the harp. Please? There is much to celebrate today, you most of all. I love you.”

“Suicide?” It was just a tiny squeak of a word, and she covered her mouth as soon as she said it. “Surely, though, he is alright? I saw him at the wedding. He was--”

“Alright, everyone. Places--last number, look sharp, and one and two and--”

Finya’s attention snapped back to the harp. For the next three minutes, it had to be the harp, nothing but the harp. There were so many questions, but now, she just played with more passion than she had in a very long time.

Maedhros and Erestor had waited in their places for the music to begin. The former stood tall, imperious, one wrist nonchalantly crooked against his hip while he surveyed those in the audience with amused disdain that would have made his father proud. Erestor knelt some five paces away, seated on his heels, hands resting on his lap with upward facing palms. His wrists were bound with Glorfindel’s scarf, and his head hung forward; he kept perfectly still.

When the music began Maedhros leisurely circled Erestor once, considering him. Extending a long arm to raise his jaw, requiring the veiled head to look upward. When the redhead had returned to his starting place, he beckoned Erestor. His now submissive servant moved to rise and obey, but stopped and altered course when a differing gesture required him to approach on hands and knees, granted permission to stand only when Erestor begged by grasping at Maedhros’ knees. Then he was invited to his feet and his wrists were freed. The pair embraced suggestively in time to the music, all while their dance described Maedhros verbally instructing a reluctant and resistant Erestor who seemed unhappy with what he was being told – but resigned to obey. At that moment, Maedhros dramatically procured the riding crop from within his clothing, making an extended show of threatening to use it – only for the whip to be suddenly slapped into Erestor’s grasp in a defined exchange involving several twirls and dips.

Maedhros released Erestor and returned to the center of the dance floor where he stood, arms crossed, insufferable smugness etched all over his face. The dark beauty adjusted his veil, now circling his Master, assessing, until in an explosion of movement Erestor executed rapid  chaînés turns around Maedhros until he was in just the right position and dove in hard for a double leg takedown that laid the tall elf on his back. Before the surprise could wear off, Erestor rolled him over and had his bare foot on Maedhros’ back, fistsful of hair in one hand and the crop in the other. An attempt to rise was met with three sharp smacks to the lush bottom.

By now, Finrod had retreated back to his seat and was sitting down as the dance was reaching this point. The audience was cheering their pleasure; a crowd of the servers and hosts had grown at the doorway where they could still keep an eye on the rest of the establishment, and people previously at the bar were slipping into the room to find a spot to stand and watch this performance. “What do you think, Edrahil? Should we take dance lessons together?” asked Amarië.

“Oh, I can do some of that without needing lessons,” answered Edrahil, who was the only one at the table still eating, but everyone’s eyes were on the dancing duo.

From seeming reluctance, Erestor had transformed as to his persona. His shirt was removed not timidly, but in revelation of his sinewy form that circled, nudged and prodded at Maedhros, alternately granting affection and meting out unexpected – but clearly desired – pain. From red welts to purpling bite marks easily seen on the fair skin, the escalating challenge played out in their dance and the excitement of it crackled electrically between the couple. For all Maedhros had apparently asked for this, he now seemed unsure he wished to let it continue...but Erestor had not received the proverbial memo.

Finya was focused on the harp, but Glorfindel was able to take in the entire performance. He had decided to stand so that he could see over others who were still seated nearby, and was glad for his decision. He tried to etch every move into his mind to replay later. He tried a whistle in the style Maedhros was fond of, and was pleasantly surprised with the results. Besides the erotic dancing he saw, there were also the shouts of encouragement from the audience, some of which made Glorfindel chuckle to hear, his favorite being one very boisterous couple who were occassionally smacking each other’s rear, raising glasses, and hollering short suggestive phrases. There was a brief pause when one of them said to the other, ‘Wait, he works at the library…’ to which the other answered, ‘Well, honey, that is what suppressive shushing will do to you.’ There was a pause, and the first said, ‘We need to work in a library.’ and was rewarded with another playful slap.

If they only knew. It was not the library at all, it was the education of the librarian. Eyebrows rising, he questioned what he had missed by fearing bondage play so much, especially when he saw barefoot Erestor gripping the curve of Maedhros’ hips and buttocks while he slowly rose, spine arched. His balance maintained, he rode his ‘horse’ masterfully in a small circle, pulling his head back taut while he stood on Maedhros’ hips, caressing the pale throat in victorious triumph while the audience roared. With the crop between his teeth, Erestor tumbled off gracefully to fall and kneel at his Master’s feet. The very last chord of the music, the redhead lifted Erestor. Removing the whip he gently cast it aside in order to offer a loving and tender embrace that was the opposite of their rough contest; the pair slowly pivoted so that all might see this between them. The sound ended, and with joined hands they took a bow replete with flushed cheeks and smiles.

Up on the stage, the judges were assembling.  Cesanyë brought Finya from the harp to where the others were. There was much chatter, and already there seemed two couples were the favorites of most. When asked her opinion, Finya honestly admitted, “I feel I would be biased--and yet, I was unable to see the final performance. I had my focus on the harp.”

“They were amazing,” said one person. “I would never have the balls to do that, even here.”

“It was incredibly theatrical. Are we sure they are not professionals?”

“That was my favorite by far. I would have found release if I was not tucked so far back I feel like I am up my own ass.” The lady talking adjusted her bosom. “Those two boys can come up to mama’s room anytime.”

A sudden moment of being overwhelmed hit Finya, who started to step backwards towards the curtain. She was stopped when she backed into Ninquitar. “Are you alright?” he asked.

“I think I...I need to go? I need to leave.” She was already trying to find an escape route, but the curtain was heavier than it looked. Actually, it did look heavy, but Finya--Fingon--was used to being able to lift just about anything, and the panic of feeling trapped led to the start of short draw breaths and panicked trembling.

“Here.” Ninquitar took Finya’s arm and brought her to an area backstage. He took hold of her hands and spoke softly. “Darling, what is the matter?”

Resisting the urge to bolt, Finya held Ninquitar’s hands tighter. “Very overwhelming. Too many people.” Her voice was shaking. “Need...need to be alone. The...the alcohol...I think...getting too sober,” she struggled to say.

“Oh, honey, this is a big anxiety monster.”

“I just…” She looked over her shoulder, and then back again. “Please. I-I do not think I can go back out there. I do not want to go back there. Not right now. Please do not make me.”

“Sweetheart, you should have told us you have social anxiety. We never would have brought you up here in the first place,” said Ninquitar apologetically.

“What?”

Ninquitar studied the confusion in the golden eyes. “Right. Old Elda. Mental health was not exactly ‘a thing’ when you were my age. Do you want to go downstairs and get away from all of this for a while?”

“Um...just...just off the stage to start,” pleaded Finya. “Before any of them notice and come looking for me,” she said with a nod past the gap in the curtain to the group on stage.

“Of course, dear, of course,” said Ninquitar. He easily brought Finya to the side stairway that would take her down to the floor level. 

As he began to walk with her down the steps, she said, “You should go back. I think I can manage.”

“Oh, no, darling, I am not that kind of gentleman, and even if I were, Cesanyë would throttle me and Manyanar would finish off whatever was left. I am going to make sure you are at a level of comfort, not just managing. Would you like me to get you some water?”

“Actually...can you explain this ‘social anxiety’ you mentioned to me?”

“I can, but you already know it, honey. You are living it.” At the bottom of the steps, Ninquitar looked around. “Those are your husbands over there, right?” he asked as he pointed to the table Glorfindel, Erestor, and Maedhros were at. Finya nodded, and Ninquitar stayed close by her side as he navigated her around behind the crowd until they reached the table.

Veiled Erestor stood, surprised and flushed with excitement at what he saw but aware of the fragility. Uncertain what to do not to cause upset, he took Finya’s hand and went down on one knee, placing his other hand over his heart. “If this is the only reward this old elf receives for his attempts at dance this evening, he will count himself over-compensated beyond what he could deserve to see so much exquisite beauty before his eyes. May I tell you that I am honored to know I am espoused to you?”

With a soft smile, Finya tugged Erestor up and embraced him. “I have heard that you danced quite a show--the both of you. I hope I might have the opportunity to see a small sample at home. As for now, I do not know if I have it in me to stay much longer. We should order food to take home for Gildor and Eruglar, but I am sorry to say I must deny you the private room for tonight.”

“Do not be sorry. While I am speaking for myself, my legs are like gelatine. I detect there are stories to be told. How may I be of help?”

“I am going to find our waiter and care for the order,” Glorfindel said, excusing himself. “I think we would be best off skipping dessert,” he hinted meaningfully with a nod of his head toward Finya, which Erestor registered. 

“I really couldn’t eat another thing,” Erestor agreed, rubbing Finya’s back and guessing Maedhros would play along.

But when Glorfindel tried to leave, Finya grabbed his arm and held fast. “I would...I would really rather wish you stayed. They...they probably are going to be called to the stage and I do not want to be left alone.”

“I told you I would stay here until you feel better,” Ninquitar reminded her. “What if I find your server and bring them here instead?” Finya nodded, still clinging to Glorfindel, and Ninquitar swiftly made his way to the cluster of servers at the door.

Erestor pulled a chair into position, recognizing the anxiety. “Sweetheart, would you like to sit? Fin will be right here with you, and you can have your choice of Maedhros or myself for the other side? Or we can just box you in? Please tell us what we can do for you.”

Dropping her voice low, she asked Glorfindel, “Can I sit on your knee? That bench I was on while I played harp was not exactly comfortable with...you know...things tucked back,” she mumbled.

“Of course you can, love. I am yours!” With open arms, Glorfindel gestured welcome along with the softly whispered reply.

Finya perched and wrapped her arms around Glorfindel’s neck. “Thank you. I am very out of practice,” she admitted. “Mmm...you smell nice.” She nuzzled him and used the opportunity to whisper, “Have you ever heard of something called ‘social anxiety’?”

“Mmmmmyeahhh…” Glorfindel’s voice suddenly took a glum turn. “You lived with it because of me; I had it very badly when you and Ress first brought me home. It was...I felt like a failure a lot and it was very painful. I think I have gotten better. It was all part of the...Faelion thing.” Leaning in closer, the blond returned the embrace and held Finya very tenderly. “You never made me feel worse about myself when I was my own worst enemy and I never thanked you for that part. One of many reasons I love you so much,” he said too quietly for anyone else to hear.

After another nuzzle, Finya kissed Glorfindel. “I love you, too. I think Ninquitar must be mistaken, then. He seemed to think I have it, I think.” Finya laughed uneasily. “If it is trauma-based, though, well, I have hardly experienced any trauma in my life, so it certainly cannot be that.”

Glorfindel stared, unable to form a response that was both truthful and positive.

As the words were spoken, Maedhros slowly turned his head and gave Finya the most incredulous look. “You,” he said, pointing at her. “Never experienced trauma?”

“I mean...not...not like Glorfindel did, so…”

“We are going to have a talk about that when we get home,” promised Maedhros as applause interrupted the discussion and both his and Erestor’s names were announced for apparently the second time, missed from the initial announcement while their focus was on Finya.

Maedhros offered his arm to Erestor and the pair scuttled off, leaving Glorfindel feeling guilty from the words just exchanged. He tightened his embrace a little.  _ Finya? Please do not be upset with me; I did not understand why you were asking me that question. I do think you have social anxiety. I have always thought so, I just did not have a name for what I thought until Gildor taught me about my feelings and behaviors. One of the biggest features of it is wanting to flee from situations where there are too many people or too much emotional stimulation creating a sense of pressure or inability to cope. I think you suffer from this quite a lot. If I am wrong then please pardon me. _

“Oh.” Finya nestled closer. “Maybe I should talk to Gildor when we get home.”

“He helped me so much.” Glorfindel snuggled as close as he could. “I am so proud of you. You were my shining jewel tonight. Even if you had never left downstairs…” Squeezing harder, Glorfindel rocked Finya a little, back and forth. “I do not know what to do with how much courage that took.”

“I feel like a lot of things happened today and I need to go home and settle myself and think them through.” She closed her eyes. “And all I wanted to accomplish today was to get the house cleaned.”

“Hm,” Glorfindel chuckled. “I had more fun doing this with you, if I get to have an opinion.”

“Yes. This was more fun than cleaning the house,” agreed Finya.

“Glad to hear that!” announced the Peacock as he sauntered up. “I caught Ninquitar before he got to your server. Your friends winning means your drinks and meals are complementary tonight. Ninquitar mentioned something about someone’s son had to stay home, and you have to take something along--just let Ninquitar know what you want when he comes back and he will get that set up for you. And this...is for you.” The Peacock slid a gilded envelope into Finya’s hand. “Read it when you get home. You are welcome back any time, and I do hope you will come...back soon.” He winked and was gone as soon as he had appeared.

“Ohhhhhh! Finya!” Glorfindel gushed, his brilliant smile a force all its own. “It is just the perfect evening! Now I want an encore of their dance but Ress is probably going to fall asleep on the sofa,” he sighed.

When Ninquitar came back, Cesanyë was with him. “We packed up all of the clothing you wore in,” she said as she held up a bag. “I want you to keep the dress. Every girl should have the dress she wore to her first ball.”

Finya smiled and blushed. “Thank you. You have both been very, very kind.”

“Honey, this is just how people should be,” said Cesanyë. “Ninquitar needs to know what you want to take home for the family members who will be ever so disappointed they were not here, and I am going to give you this, which has our address. You look us up in the next few days, alright? We want to know how you are doing--and we know where you live, so if we do not hear from you, I will personally be knocking on your door. Probably in shoes, though.” She handed the paper to Finya, who tucked it into the envelope.

“Love, I want to have them over. Not tomorrow but soon? Can we? Please?” Glorfindel asked eagerly.

“I cannot see why not,” said Finya. “Perhaps next week?”

“That would be lovely! We can work out details while the boys look at the menu and decide on the order,” suggested Cesanyë.

As these tasks were being completed, Erestor and Maedhros came back over, arm in arm, with Maedhros holding a small yet respectably sized trophy. “Did you know,” he said as they all sat down, “this is the first time I have ever won something like this.” The trophy was set in a place of honor at the center of the table.

Erestor stared at Maedhros, then Finya, then back to Maedhros again, with a contentedly silly smile on his face. Seating himself, he withdrew under his veil using it as though it were a cowl, hiding the even more effusive grin that he did not want the general public to see.

“I hope I get to dance with you sometime,” Glorfindel said with open envy. “I love to. And congratulations. It is overdue, then.”

“I had a truly enchanting partner.” Maedhros lifted Erestor’s hand and kissed the back of it while looking into his eyes. “I hope this will not be the only time I have this pleasure.”

“I hope not either,” Erestor returned with sincerity, the brown depths wanting a great deal more but knowing he must wait. Patiently he held onto the hand and hoped his dance partner understood how much his interest was returned.

Plans were made and food was acquired. As farewells were said, there was much hugging all around, and a few random congratulations from staff and patrons alike as Maedhros and Erestor walked out at the front; Finya and Glorfindel hung back, which helped to keep the focus off of them. The carriage was packed, and Finya climbed in as soon as the door was open; the others followed.


	6. Chapter 6

The first person to speak once they were inside the carriage, content to allow the horses to find their way home, was Maedhros, who was seated beside Finya. Glorfindel and Erestor, leaned against one another on the other side, were not particularly surprised by the abrupt conversation. “Finya, I do not want to take any amount of joy from you this night, but there is something I wish to address, and I will feel as if I kept something from you if I do not open my mind and heart to you, and tell you my feelings.”

“This is...this is too much for you,” guessed Finya, refusing to make eye contact. “Seeing me like this...this is not who you married yesterday and--”

“Stop.” Maedhros put his arms around Finya and pulled her closer. He kissed her fully and deeply, kneading the back of her neck with one hand. “I love every part of you,” he crooned. “I love everything about you, Fingon, Kitten, Astaldo...whomever you are and need to be, you are precious to me. This is...on the topic of an abundance of love.”

“Oh. Then...I apologize,” she whispered, but immediately jumped to another conclusion. “I know this is our honeymoon, and I should have desires to be with you… _with you…_ in the ways of matrimony, when I am as you see me, I do not...I might not...I mean, you are a gay man, so--”

“Darling, I promise to stop cutting you off if you promise not to let your mind wander,” Maedhros interrupted. “My being gay does not mean I am not attracted to you, seeing you as you are before me--you are still my husband, and I still love you. However, that is not what I want to discuss.”

Again, Finya stuttered an answer. “I am...just so nervous...I fear to do or say the wrong thing.”

Maedhros kissed her again, and said, “I am going to get right to it, lest you think of other unfortunate options. Tonight, as I was spending time with Erestor, and dancing with him, I felt something. I come seeking your permission to explore that, for I know the relationship you share with him and with Glorfindel is very special, and…” 

Finya had placed her fingers upon Maedhros’ lips to silence him. “Can you imagine how lovely it could be if we were all one someday? To love and support and care for one another?”

“Is that...do I have your permission?” asked Maedhros. 

“I believe Glorfindel has a...longer claim on the affections of Erestor, though, I imagine you must have thought about this already,” said Finya.

“I have already spoken to Glorfindel, and to Erestor, obviously,” said Maedhros.

Finya looked at Glorfindel. “What say you?”

“I have granted my blessing, on the condition you also give yours,” he said.

Through all of this, Erestor was quiet, fingering the edge of the scarf. It was loose now, in the carriage, so that his hair was partially uncovered, and a shake of his head would have sent it sliding down to his shoulders. “I will abide by your decision,” he said.

For a moment, Finya closed her eyes. There was an uneasy pause; outside, the horses splashed through some water signalling that it must have rained earlier. “Trade places with me,” insisted Finya after another moment. She eased out of her seat and perched onto Glorfindel’s lap to give Erestor room to move to the other side. Then Finya sat down where Erestor had vacated, and she snuggled up against Glorfindel. “I would never deny you anything that is in my power to give, Cupcake, though I think in this case you and Maitimo must travel this path on your own. If you still wish my blessing--you have it.”

Erestor grasped Finya’s hand and brought it to his lips. “Not wish. Need. My spirit is one with yours and I will not do anything that would dishonor our love. I do not deny that I want this, but only if I may have it in openness and the light of approval of my husbands.”

“In that case, approval is most certainly and opely given, for my part,” said Finya.

Glorfindel nodded his approval as well. “You two look cute together,” he added. “Like...fire and ash or something. I will come up with something better and more poetic when I am less tired.”

Erestor turned to Maedhros and shyly offered his hand, feeling peaceful now but weary too after everything that had transpired. The lull of the carriage and the sense of security settling over him was having a quieting effect, but not so much that it stilled the sense of awe that this great beauty would want him in any way.

Maedhros smiled handsomely and said, “I find myself swaddled in good fortune tonight. Such love and beauty, from all who surround me. I am intoxicated by the sweet infatuation of newly blooming love, and I see before me a promising future I have no right to claim, but am grateful for the generosity bestowed upon me.”

“Please do not say that!” Erestor pleaded, his veil sliding off with the sudden motion of his head. “Please do not…” Eyes that had suddenly transformed with the charred depths of memory gazed up at him. “If we are only to have what we deserve, then…” Forcefully he shook his head, the smile returning to his features through a sheer act of will. “Please be with me.”

“Eres, he does not mean it like…” Finya sighed. “I do not mean to speak for you, Maedhros, but what I can share, as one who walked a similar path long ago, is that there is a shroud of guilt that a kinslayer bears. It is the constant question of how, as those in the wrong, we could possibly be where we are. Why should we have lived on the beach? Why should we have found prosperity? Why should anyone love us?”

“Finya’s words are true,” said Maedhros. “Not all kinslayers feel this way, but...they should.” he said firmly. He cupped Erestor’s cheek and said, “And you, of all whom I have known, are one of the purest people in this life or the last. I feel...stained. I feel unworthy. I feel as if...I should need to prove my worth.”

“Well…” Finya half-mumbled, “we are not that far out of the city, and there is that temple, for those feeling a need to repent…”

Maedhros shifted his gaze away from Erestor and onto Finya, but said nothing.

“From what I hear, the doors are always open,” she continued.

“Can you just imagine the look on Gildor’s face if we return to tell him everything and conclude with ‘and I went to the temple to pray and confess’?”

“Can you imagine the freedom you would give your soul if you did?” Finya looked directly at Maedhros and said, “I am not suggesting it solves everything, but it could be considered a start.”

A hand that trembled slightly now cupped Maedhros’ cheek in return, studying his face. “You call me pure yet you must know whose child I really am, then you go on to speak of yourself as stained and unlovable? We both call Eru our Father. I plead with Him to guide me and for His mercy. I have been to the temple and would gladly go again if I could in any way help you. I would gladly go again for myself.” Erestor’s words held no edge of goading; only honesty. Lowering his hand, he rested it on his lover’s chest and looked away.

Maedhros kissed the top of Erestor’s head. “Who your father is is not who you are. I should understand that.”

Finya looked back out the window, so Glorfindel took it upon himself to change the topic of conversation slightly. “I realized this evening, as I was ruminating over the situation, that the feelings I thought had long passed for Gildor may only have been temporarily suppressed,” Glorfindel admitted.

“You should tell him as much,” Maedhros encouraged. “He never once spoke ill of you. To this day, you remain upon a pedestal with him.”

Glorfindel frowned a little. “I have no idea how I would start that conversation. I also feel, in the interest of asking permission--”

“As far as I am concerned,” said Finya, “we are all now part of something we share. Our relationships with one another are going to strengthen and change as time goes by. Let us never again be sundered,” she said. “We should multiply our love, not allow it to divide us.”

“If you...I want to be sure your words are granting me that permission, Maedhros?” Glorfindel asked. “I know we must seem a little ridiculous to press so hard for consent but I cannot ever make this kind of mistake again. Even with consent, I am unsure I would ever muster the courage.”

“I will not pressure you, then, for he is not with me right now,” assured Maedhros. “The child wore him out considerably and he is deep in Irmo’s realm. Should the time come, should your courage blossom, know that I will not only give you leave to explore, I shall in fact provide you with a map, should you find yourself in need of guidance on how one traverses the force that is Gildor Inglorion.” Maedhros said with a wink.

“I...maybe that is what I was missing,” Glorfindel admitted. “I loved Gildor but what I believed I loved never kept still. I do not know if that makes any sense.”

Maedhros chuckled between taking time to kiss Erestor’s palm. “Gildor does not know how to sit still, and I do not think he would be Gildor if he did.”

Erestor’s heartbeat increased, thundering in his chest as he gathered his courage and addressed Maedhros again. “You do not understand. How can you, when all you can know is what Gildor told you? No, I am not my father but it does not change that I was used by him to do terrible things.” He allowed that statement to settle for a moment. “I cannot force you and I will not ask again but I wish so much that you would go with me. We are more alike than you can perceive. I am much older than you, cherished one. That is why I beg, do not make me watch you repeat my mistakes.” He held the gray eyes steadily though his frame trembled a little with strain.

Glorfindel’s brows elevated. Whatever the outcome, he felt tremendously proud of Erestor and had every idea what speaking like this was costing him.

Slowly, Maedhros let go of Erestor’s hand. He let out a sharp whistle and the horses pulled off the road and stopped. Maedhros slumped back against the seat and stared out the window. Lightly, the rain began again and streaked down the windows. “I do not know all of the details of what your father made you do, but there are things my father made me, and my brothers, do. Everyone focuses on the kinslaying, There was more to it. While we wandered up and down the coast trying to figure out what we were going to do, he made us go to the houses of the people. We actively recruited. We demanded supplies. Horses. Whatever they had. And if they did not offer them? We took them. We stole. We pillaged. And we burned. We burned houses. Farms.” He shook his head. “And then we...came to the temples. The temples, which held no treasure, no food stores, no horses. So we just burned them. We defiled them, destroyed them, and desanctified them. No one talks about that in the histories. No one wants to think that anyone could be that terrible.” He tapped at a raindrop on the window. “We were no better than Morgoth.”

Erestor took up the hand that released his and grasped it tightly. “What are your feelings about those deeds now?” he asked quietly, with complete neutrality.

“What do you think I think?” Maedhros turned away from the window, but did not look at any of the others. He tilted his head back against the seat and began to openly sob, eyes closed, tears streaming down from the corners of his eyes to run down either side of his neck, and then to pool at his throat before running down to soak into his shirt. His voice cracked as he said, “I was a fucking monster!”

Finya squeezed her eyes shut and bowed her head but did not offer an opinion.

Tilting his head, Erestor smoothed his hand carefully over the pale forehead. “My father took what was inside of me, my heart’s desires, so that together we could bring them to life,” he explained. “Some of them were named dragons. Others, valarauka. Others I refuse to name even now.” The soft touches of his fingers continued. “My grandfather will not refuse to forgive a repentant heart, Maedhros. His mercy and His love are how I am alive through the depths of my shame and I know with all that I am that He loves you also. He only waits to be asked. Tell Him what you told me; it need not even be in a temple.”

Maedhros shook his head a little. He rubbed his hands over his face. 

Finya played with her bottom lip between her thumb and forefingers. “You always made it sound as if it was Celegorm and Curufin who did all of that.”

“I know,” was the only reply from Maedhros.

The rain had subsided again, and Finya looked out the window a moment before she opened the door and exited the carriage. Before anyone could go after her, they could feel the slight movement of someone climbing up to the bench. A moment later, the horses were being coaxed to turn the carriage around. It was not very long before the carriage was pulled to the side again. The sound of Finya climbing down caused Glorfindel to move to the door, but it was opened by Finya. “We are here,” she said. “I do not care who among you stays inside the carriage, but I am going into the temple. I only ask you do not leave for home until I get back. I have no shoes on,” she reminded all of them before she stepped away. The door was left open.

Erestor placed himself in Maedhros’ lap and wormed his comparatively slender arms behind his back to embrace him, laying his head against his shoulder. “Where you are I am,” he intoned without judgement. “I love you, forgive you and I am with you. If this is where you need to be then here I am also.”

Grace, determination, and an intense desire to lift Maedhros from the bonds of the past all could be felt as a living force by Glorfindel, who found the sight moving. He did not believe they needed privacy so much as he felt an inner tug encouraging him to join Finya inside; an idea that his efforts or his prayers would fare better offered within the Temple. None of them were beyond the need for guidance.

At the doors of the temple, Finya did not pause before entering. She had anticipated it would be empty; it was not. It seemed that there had been a ceremony recently, and there were participants still lingering in small groups around the main room, though no one was near the altar. She bit her lip a moment; had she forgotten a high holy day? But then, this was not an exclusive temple for any one denomination, and a scan of those inside told him immediately that these were not Sedryners, nor most of the other faithful he was familiar with. 

And that was the moment that Fingon awoke, unsure of his decision, feeling self-conscious but determined, and came to Finya’s rescue. He tossed his head back, held it high, and marched down the aisle. Even with so many eyes upon him, he brought Finya up to the front, to kneel at the altar. She was pure; he was not. If she was really here for him, she deserved that he be here for her.

He heard the sound of footsteps approaching. He clutched his hands together, trembling slightly.

“Miss?”

There was a cleric standing, holding a cushion. “Y-yes?”

“I thought you might like this for your knees. No need to dirty your dress. There is a lot of ash on the ground from the ceremony.”

Finya looked around. So there was. She closed her eyes and sighed. “Thank you.” She stood so that the cleric could position it for her and noticed it was the same person she had spoken with some weeks ago. She tried to decide on something to say regarding her appearance, but the cleric bowed and moved back off to allow her privacy.

Entering, Glorfindel took a moment to observe the interior, finding it had an aura of welcome. Comfort. There were people here but nothing that seemed as though new arrivals could be a disturbance. A few more steps inside revealed Finya. There were many benches that had cushions available and to those he walked. The front row brought him reasonably near Finya but left a considerate distance from his husband. Drawing out a cushion and kneeling, deep meditative breaths slowed his mind while he allowed his eyes some reflection on his surroundings. When he felt quieter, he recalled the spiritual past shared with Erestor in another time and place. What that had felt like, how that had dissolved away.

_Father Eru, I suppose you are always there, watching, and we are the ones making everything so complicated. Erestor guided me once and I wonder if I am being guided again. I did not mean to stray. I strayed because I wished to find love more than anything and my heart begins to understand a great irony._ His lips curled in a smile. _I pray for your blessing on our family, Father, but especially at this moment I pray for Maedhros, that he may pass through his dark valley of the spirit to what lies beyond. Grant him that courage. Please._ Bowing his head further, his mind went to a meditative state and lost awareness of his environs.

In the carriage, Maedhros’ breathing had slowed and while the tears had not subsided, they were considerably less. His arms were around Erestor, both clinging to the other. “How can you forgive me when I can never forgive myself?” he asked.

“Because Eru would forgive my father if he asked it and did so with a truthful heart. I believed as you did for a very long time. Clung to the surety that I was filth and that I deserved the evil that befell me because after all, I was a walking, unerasable sin. But in doing that I set myself above Eru Himself, Maedhros. I said that I was the rightful judge, not my own Creator. What I meant as self-punishment and humility was really an act of monumental pride though not intended as such. I...I was being my father. Choosing my own chords of the Music. I let go and I begged for pardon and I have known love that is not being strangled and ruined by me. Oh Mae...please! It is the easiest and hardest thing you will ever do, all at the same time.”

Maedhros listened. He ran his right hand over Erestor’s hair. The stroking continued long after Erestor stopped talking. There was a tremor in his touch. “I am scared.”

“If you were not I would wonder what someone back there put in your water. You are up against the most terrifying opponent you can ever face.” Erestor was completely serious. With a forefinger he tapped the top of Maedhros’ chest, where his clothing revealed skin. “I felt the same and I have faced a dragon. Those who do not carry this cannot really understand. But as you have seen, those who have crossed to the other side would do or give anything to provide a bridge if they knew how.”

“If I go in...you can stay with me? Right?” Maedhros tightened his arms around Erestor. “I do not know if I really can right now. This is very sudden. I can try.”

“I would hold onto you and not let go if that is what would help. Or walk you in with closed eyes and sit with you in the back. I promise to do whatever you need.”

When Maedhros indicated that he was stepping out of the carriage, Erestor replaced his veil securely and swiftly came to walk at his side, one arm around his waist and the other holding his opposite hand. Erestor adjusted his reach and found an elegant stance alongside Maedhros; their time dancing provided all the research needed to glide in synchronicity with the very tall man. “You are doing a fine thing.” Silky words flowed to counteract the nervousness he could feel in the body he held. “Breathe deeply, love, stay in the present. Stay with me, that you are listening to me and together we are finding love…”

Already his words were quiet and soon they dropped further in volume because now Erestor pulled the door open for them. It had seemed as though Maedhros was doing well enough but crossing the threshold meant a sensory transformation for which his partner was unprepared. Outdoors smelled of trees, sea and fresh moving salt air; here cool stone, years, holy cloths of embroidered fabric covering surfaces and hanging from the ceiling, candles and incense mixed. The sensation of space shifted to the faint reverberations of a large open but sealed area; sound, sight and touch also subtly altered to something unaccustomed – and the embodiment of dreaded memories.

A muted cry of despair escaped Maedhros’ face, now covered by both his hands; he collapsed to his knees almost but not quite inside the entryway, propping the door open behind him a little with a booted foot. Fresh misery poured from him and with great compassion Erestor placed himself to shield him from the view of others as best he was able. To help stave off unwanted gossip, he swiftly gathered his long red hair, twisting it into a coil he tucked out of sight while he comforted him. Kneeling in the same position uncaring if they made a spectacle, Erestor whispered words of spiritual comfort and reassurance that all were welcome here because he had been.

“No...I...I just...I cannot do it! Not now. I cannot!” The words were not overly loud, but they were enough to alert a few people near the entryway. Fearfully, Maedhros scrambled back, as yet on his knees. Erestor followed, and the doors slowly closed, the light that was streaming outdoors turning from a welcoming passage to a sliver to nothing again once they were shut.

“They are not going to want me here. And what--how-how can I even ask to be forgiven for everything I did?” Maedhros was still on his knees, frozen in place, hands flat on the tiled step he was on.

“For the same reason I could, love. For the same reason my father could if he could ever have the disposition to feel regret. Ilúvatar created us to love, not suffer an agony of unresolvable remorse until time itself ends. He forgives. The one making you unforgivable is you. Eru awaits you with an open heart if you would give Him a chance. Or do you think one of the greatest blessings ever seen was meant for one not being called to His light?” Erestor bent low and kissed both of Maedhros’ hands.

Before Maedhros could answer, one of the doors was opened. The cleric stood in the light, and had with him a large unlit candle. He used it to prop the door open, and did the same with the other side, this time using a small stool. The door slid a little, but stayed open. 

The cleric came forward and looked down at the pair. “All are welcome,” he said calmly. “Whenever you are ready, we are here. He is here.” The cleric bowed and returned within.

Erestor reflected that the old him would have filled this moment with persuasive arguments. Perhaps even bargaining, or at least scheming to get what he wanted. That was not present, though his heart prayed to Eru at this moment for Maedhros. No, right now calm and settled thoughts waved to and fro just a little. So he did what seemed most natural though it made no logical sense; he carded his fingers deep into the red mane and gently rubbed at the lion’s scalp, moving in slow circles.

The propping of the doors did not go unnoticed inside, but one person at least had been left unawares. She stood now, finished with her prayers and meditation, and turned around to see the doors at the back were open. Finya could not quite see why, and began to approach slowly, missing that Glorfindel had been not far from her.

At the doorway, Maedhros watched Finya come closer. Her walk was curious at first and purposeful once she saw her target. Maedhros wanted to retreat, but he was frozen both from going forward and stumbling back. He bowed his head and started to cry again, still on all fours, as Finya stooped down before him.

“Here. Take my hand.” She extended it forward, the light from the candles inside of the temple dancing off of her blue fingertips.

“I ca--cannot do it.”

The hand remained extended. “You came here to help me not long ago. You could walk through the doors then. If you could do it one-handed, you can do it again now.” She held both hands out to him.

Looking down at his right hand, Maedhros lifted his left first, and then his right, but did not budge more than that. He tugged Finya down, and she leaned over to hear him say, “This is not for me. I--”

“Maitimo. Stop listening to your father.” Finya gave him a hard yet loving look as she squeezed his hands. “Think about your mother. She would be proud to have you walk in there. I will be right in front of you. You have always followed me when I have asked. Erestor will be right by your side the entire time.”

“She is our wife,” Erestor reminded Maedhros. “He is our husband. Together they are our beloved and there is nothing I would not do for Finya or Findekáno especially when great wisdom is being given. Please leave the past where it belongs and follow her lead.”

Standing with her back to the doorway, the rays of light behind Finya made her look as if she was crowned by the sun. “Please,” was the only other word Finya said.

Whether it was courage, weariness, determination, or something completely different, somehow, Maedhros got to his feet. His breathing was labored, as if he was fighting a long battle--for perhaps he was. He shuffled a foot forward, then stepped onto the uppermost step again. The entire time, Finya held fast to Maedhros and glided backwards as he came forward. At the doorway, Maedhros again froze just as Finya was on the other side. “You are very brave,” commended Finya. “I know this is terrifying you, but we are with you. We are always with you.”

“You can do this and you will do this,” Erestor said gently but with complete conviction. His arm held firmly to Maedhros’ midsection. “Always we are given a light to bring us through our darkness and yours is all around you now. You cannot falter. There is no need to trust yourself. Trust us. Trust Gildor, and Glorfindel. Let us be your strength, if your own is not enough.”

The next step forward nearly caused Maedhros to swoon, but with the aid of Erestor and Finya he kept upright. Meanwhile, the cleric had been ushering people from the hall who were loitering from the service, and only now reached Glorfindel. “Sir, if I might be so bold to ask, we have someone entering who needs some privacy, and would like to clear the hall. I do have a room in the back you may use if it would suit you?”

“They are my husbands,” Glorfindel answered humbly. “If I may, I would like to discreetly inquire if my assistance would be a help or hindrance, and certainly withdraw if the latter.”

“Pardon. Of course.” The cleric moved aside so that Glorfindel could easily move to the entrance if desired. “Let me know if I can assist. I thought I might stand at the doors once they are inside, so that I might direct anyone else who comes to wait a moment for the time all of you need.”

“Ahm, sir, it may be that you can assist if you are merciful,” Glorfindel said barely above a whisper. “I do not know how versed you are in history but you see a man who believes no forgiveness is possible for him and that he should not be inside here. He committed great crimes long ago. Murder. The destruction and desecration of places of worship like this one. The ruination of countless lives. He has lived with the pain of his remorse for thousands of years and does not wish to listen to hope or Eru’s pardon. For whatever you feel you can do, even if it is that you do not throw us out of here, you have my gratitude.” With a strained smile, he moved past the cleric to join his family.

The cleric followed immediately. By the time he and Glorfindel reached the entrance, Maedhros and the others were beyond the doors and into the foyer, but had not quite emerged into the hall. The cleric made haste in closing the doors and placing the stool to block them, as a means to temporarily deter any additional late arrivals. He then stepped near to Finya, leaving some space, and addressed Maedhros. “Welcome, brother. May I wash your feet, sir? Some find it cathartic, to have the miles they have walked washed away before entry to a new life.”

Maedhros stared at Erestor, borderline panic in his eyes.

“It is symbolic,” Erestor explained with great calm. “The idea of transitions. In a way, what we mentioned a few seconds ago. Leaving the past in the past. Cleansing, moving forward with a new start, to a new and better spiritual place free of old burdens. There is more but you do not need that right now. There is nothing to fear. This is the same kind man that made me feel welcome here just as he is welcoming you. Would you allow him this?”

Maedhros nodded, and he was directed to the side where there were spots on the floor where holes and sloped tiles drained the water away. Finya helped to remove Maedhros’ footwear and Erestor rolled up his pants. The cleric returned with a pitcher. The water was warm, and was poured slowly between Maedhros’ toes, then around the base of his foot, while the cleric used his other hand to gently rub the water all over. The second foot was tended to as the first, and the pitcher was set aside. The cleric used the sash of his robe to pat Maedhros’ feet dry, one after the other, then dabbed oil on each and again used his hands to rub each of Maedhros feet until the slightest hint of the perfumed oil reached Maedhros’ nostrils. “Thank you, brother,” said the cleric.

“I...think I should thank you,” Maedhros said.

The cleric smiled. “That will come soon enough, I am sure. Would you like to enter?”

Maedhros hesitantly looked to the second set of doors, those that would lead him into the hall and eventually to the altar, should he go that far.

“When I came here, I told him why I hesitated to enter, Maedhros. Perhaps if you did the same, you could hear a response from someone besides us,” Erestor suggested. “I told him the truth about me.” Standing very near, he placed both his hands protectively over Maedhros’ shoulders.

Maedhros looked at the entryway, and then down to the floor as he spoke. “If there is a sin, I have committed it. Some, in excess. I am...a kinslayer. Just a nice word for the truth, which I have only heard Finya have the courage to speak. Murderer. That is what I am. A murderer, one who has not repented, and in some cases never can.”

“He has forgiven you,” said the cleric with certainty.

Maedhros blinked. “That makes no sense. I have never asked.”

“You need not. He knows, if it is in your mind. To speak it is to affirm that which is already done by His will.”

Maedhros looked skeptical.

“Is there more, or is that the heaviest burden on your heart?”

“It is everything,” said Maedhros. “So much more. More than I would ever have time to tell.”

The cleric gave a sad smile. “We think that, but are we not gifted with time? We are none of us perfect; He knows this. That is why He is there for us when we need Him, and my brother, you need Him more than anyone right now. He is here for you tonight, and He is here for you always.”

Erestor smoothed the skin of Maedhros’ cheek. Reaching up on his toes, he kissed it and waited for something to happen. Further attempts at arguing did not feel right, nor did trying to tug him along like a child. He knew the cleric was correct, because he was correct. Had he ever considered the things he just knew that others did not? Like what the fish thought, or the gulls? Well, why would he when that was normal...but that was not the normal of others. That part was easily forgotten sometimes and led to little misunderstandings...raising his head he studied Finya to see if there was any indication of a strategy there. If one existed it was well-hidden.

“May we try an idea?” The cleric stood next to Finya, who had taken hold of Maedhros’ hands again. “Perhaps you could tell me one of your transgressions for each step you take within. For each, I will answer to you how He would answer, were He here. I must ask a great deal of you--you must trust me that you allow me to speak on His behalf. Will you try this?”

Maedhros nodded.

“You already confessed to murder, and yet have not taken your step,” said the cleric.

“Let us get to the door,” suggested Finya, leading Maedhros there before any sort of negotiation on where the steps should start could take place. She brought him right to the edge, and then took a step back but left her arms extended so that she still held Maedhros’ hands but gave him time to follow her. He took a shaky breath, and then he stepped forward towards Finya. “I am proud of you,” said Finya quietly.

“I am still right here,” Erestor said, from what sounded like just behind and to the side of him. _You will feel my hands on your waist and if you need me closer pull me to you. A promise is a promise. I too am proud and...please, Maedhros, do not think it forward of me, but I already know that my heart is lost to you. I love you._

Now that Maedhros was in the hall, with the light surrounding them and the incense burning, the path appeared less daunting. He let go of Finya with his right hand and beckoned Erestor closer. “Finya, you were up there?” He nodded toward the altar.

Finya nodded. “I prefer not to be able to see others when I am in here, so I go up to the front or use a private room.”

“I see,” said Maedhros.

“I like it up there too,” Erestor admitted. “I was once a cleric. I greatly enjoyed service to others. Up there feels...at home to me.”

“I think I would have liked to have heard you give a sermon,” said Maedhros.

“You are welcome to use the altar if you desire it,” the cleric encouraged as he looked at Erestor.

Blindsided, Erestor regarded “I did not realize my...that Maedhros would feel that way about hearing me. If that is truly your wish I will find it within me to offer one. For the rest? I pray that Eru will make clear His wishes for me but I helped Glorfindel and I will help you as well. Right now though, I believe this devout servant is the one best able to guide you. My role here is to provide you support.”

As Erestor spoke, Maedhros took note of the benches. “Maybe we can sit down. Right over...over here, then.” Before discussion could take place, he walked away from them and sat down on the bench closest to the doors in the back row. He looked straight ahead, up at the altar. His hands gripped the seat of the bench on either side.

Seemingly unfazed, Erestor slipped past him in an elegant, practiced pirouette that left him seated next to the stunning redhead. Lightly he traced his fingers down the powerful forearm, corded from a long life of many tasks. “In the years I hated myself so much I…” Erestor paused, his head lowered and obscured by the veil momentarily before he continued, looking straight ahead. “I had no mirror. Would do anything possible to avoid seeing myself in a mirror because the sight was more than I could endure. I knew how loathsome I was, even if no one else did. Then Gildor found out things about me and he knew too and made certain I knew that he agreed with that assessment. It was when I had gained the courage to admit my feelings for Glorfindel but Gildor had a means to control me and he used it. There were so many times I did not know how I would go on with the pain that found me or that I would bring on myself. Often the two worked together, you see. What life did not hand me, I would hand myself, to ensure my own unhappiness. Nothing changed for me until...well, I assume you know?”

“Uhm...I...there was Fingon? Or do you mean…” Maedhros glanced at Erestor. “Maybe I should admit I am not fully certain.”

“It was not the best-asked question,” Erestor admitted. “Nothing changed until I almost died. That is how far it had to go for me until I could finally understand that life meant something and that turning away from all the foolishness I had clung to had to stop because it was my very last chance. I do not want you to ever end up laid so low. You stopped drinking, something so...I was so proud of you for that. I am more proud of you for this because I know this is even harder. I wonder if you are able to try more, or if you will tell me what you are feeling right now.”

Maedhros looked up at the vaulted ceiling. Glass panes above allowed one to see the stars in the heavens. “Fear. I am afraid. It is not a fear of admitting my guilt--I know I am guilty. I have endured that guilt myself because once I give names to all of my internal demons in here, once they are shared in here, in this place...judgement. That is what I fear. When Morgoth captured me, he held a mock trial for my ‘transgressions’. It was used as a basis to ‘sentence’ me to the cruelty I faced. I watched my father’s trial; I heard how my grandfather was judged when he began to have feelings and show affection to Indis. And I heard all of the things that Fingon went through, going to the homes of the people he had murdered in the kinslaying, and I cannot possibly face those people right now. Maybe not ever! I do not even know who all of them were! He killed four people,” Maedhros announced, a wave of his arm at Finya. “He says four as if it is an immense burden, and I would find some joy in only having four names staining my soul! I killed ruthlessly, in the name of my father, whom I love--how can I ever be forgiven if I say I am sorry, but continue to love my father? I still do not understand how Fingon can even be in the same room as that man, knowing all he encouraged us to do, with his powerful words and his oaths. I will not say ‘her’ about that, for I cannot imagine that was the act of sweet Finya.”

“That was Findekáno,” said Finya almost immediately. “And, this is good, putting all of these thoughts out there, and recognizing your fears. I feel I must offer caution in your assessments. This is going to sound incredibly arrogant, but I do not want anyone comparing their experiences with mine. I can do things other people never could, and I know that. While it took me, it took Finya, a long time to be brave enough to show herself, Findekáno scares me. He scares Morgoth--do you remember, for the longest time, there was a bounty on me!” Finya dropped down on the bench on Maedhros’ other side. “Yes, I ‘only’ killed four people, but I shot a lot more than that with arrows in the hopes they would leave the battlefield, only to have others jump in and end their lives. It was a nightmare. And going and talking to the families? No one is asking you to do that. It took me a long, long time before I mustered the strength for it. I did it because it is part of a personal belief I have. Erestor, Glorfindel, this man here...they would all agree that the act of forgiveness is between you and Him.” She extended her arm and pointed straight upward. “We are imperfect. You need only ask, and you will find that forgiveness is yours.” Finya ran her fingers over Maedhros’ hand, still gripping the bench. “I hope you are able to do this. Honestly, I hope all of your brothers, your father, everyone who is a kinslayer, I hope all of them can find the courage to do this someday. I think He desires it.”

Maedhros closed his eyes and shook his head. “You have no idea.”

Finya squeezed Maedhros’ hand. “We can both hope for it, but the only person you can control is yourself, and your actions. If that is not today, it will come. I am sure of it. It should not be forced--I am proud of how far you have come tonight.”

But Maedhros gave a snort, opened his eyes, and looked at Finya. “You truly have no idea.”

“Ah…” She withdrew her hand. “I misinterpreted. Please enlighten me?”

“He never killed anyone. He got the rest of us to do it.”

Finya closed her eyes, brows furrowed. “Sorry...are we...are we discussing--”

“My father. Did you ever go hunting with him? He is a terrible shot. He made swords, but he made far more jewels, and his hands were small and smooth. He rarely engaged in training. His weapons of choice were a sling, because rocks are bigger than arrows, and a staff, because it was less weight than a sword. He was physically weaker than you probably realize. When he threatened your father, your dad should have just kicked him in the groin. That would have ended the whole thing right there. My father was a lot of talk; he got others to try to take the ships, and when that did not work, they retaliated with the weapons he gave them. Those swords were meant for intimidation--but he never would have given anyone a dull blade. He had too much pride for that.”

With every word spoken, Finya’s gaze darkened. At the end of the tale, with fists balled up, she began to growl, “That son-of-a--”, then caught herself, sucked in air, and let out an angry breath. “Excuse me a moment.’ She calmly stood and walked back to the foyer. The sound of the stool being moved was heard, and then the door, and after it shut some slightly far-off cursing was barely detected by the others.

Erestor took up Maedhros’ hand, tugging at it until he would release it from the bench. This did not upset the redhead, rather it seemed to amuse him since Erestor’s motions were gentle and there was a childish insistence in his eyes while this was being done. Maedhros relented and seemed grateful for the small distraction and amusement. “Thank you for answering my question, though now I have more questions. Finya is correct in what she said; the expectations of judgement on your part being connected to this are important to have articulated but are not something to fear.” He used both hands now, holding Maedhros’ hand against his heart. “There are things I have not yet spoken of to all of you. You rightly understood from my nightmares that I had been tortured and what happened at that clinic was the least of my problems, for Morgoth held me as well. So I am familiar with his trials and judgements.

“That does not happen with our Father Eru. He cannot conceive of love’s opposite, which is what you have experienced. Regarding your father; you are a son. The desire to love your parents is a part of your very being. Loving a person is not the same as loving their deeds. Even I scrape for the few memories of when I could tell myself that maybe he was something else though I know better. I respect you deeply, Maedhros, but I am a very old scholar and what you are doing is something that happens very easily to an untrained mind – you are conflating issues that are actually distinct from one another. I do not say this to sound like an arrogant...person, but to help you. This is too important not to see clearly. And I said I had questions. When you tell us this about your father, do you mean that all of your brothers are aware that you were manipulated into taking on these terrible moral burdens on his behalf? Or are you the only one to understand this? Have you spoken with your father about this, and does he have a response?”

“Did I speak to my father? Erestor, my father--did I speak to him about this? Hell no!” Immediately, Maedhros put a hand to his mouth. “I am so sorry,” he apologized to the cleric nearby. The cleric waved his hand, and Maedhros sighed. “Have I spoken with my brothers? Yes, now and then, some more than others. There are differing views. Maglor is, as you might expect, most repentant of us all.”

Finya reentered then, tucking back her hair which had come loose in some places while she was outside. She carefully reset the stool at the door as the cleric had placed it, and came back into the hall. Seeing the scene had changed, she moved to stand by Glorfindel now instead.

“Alright,” Erestor soothed, smoothing the flaming hair. “I did not mean to agitate you, beloved. I wanted to understand as clearly as I might. I am so deeply proud of you. Had I been able to have your courage and honesty so much could have been different. I love you,” he repeated.

Maedhros crouched slightly to hug Erestor. When he stood again, he looked near the front, but off to the side. “I want to go over there,” he said, pointing out the side altar with rows and rows of candles, some lit and some awaiting prayers.

Meanwhile, Finya addressed the cleric. “Do you have a naming room here?” 

The cleric nodded. “Follow that hall to the end, and then, just to the right. It should still be lit, but if it is not, please call for me and I will bring light.”

“Thank you.” Finya grasped Glorfindel’s hand and gave it a little tug. “Will you come with me? Please?”

Sensing that Erestor and Maedhros needed this time alone, Glorfindel went willingly, following along the dark corridor until it opened into a room of light. The candles were oddly angled upwards, located higher up in the room. They were of different colors, though some were white or blue as those in the main room were. The angle and the multitude of candles meant that drops of wax were constantly raining down around the edges of the room, which was circular. The floor had a slight slope, so the wax on the floor streaked towards the center from all directions. “Careful how you step,” advised Finya when they entered the room.

There was a large round stone table of considerable height at the center. For Glorfindel, he almost might have rested his chin on the surface. “I am unfamiliar with this concept,” said Glorfindel, “but I like it.” The rainbow of wax on the floor created a fanciful effect, and the warm glow was comforting and inviting. “By what you called this place, I suspect it is used for naming? Of...people?”

“Exactly. The purpose was to have a place to bring one’s family and friends together for the naming of an infant, or for a betrothed couple to come with their parents just before the public ceremony where each party could speak the name they had fashioned for their love. Now, they are sometimes used for that, but I have seen people bring pets, chickens, their weapon, anything really, and perform the ceremony.”

“What does the ceremony consist of? We had nothing of this sort in Gondolin,” recalled Glorfindel. “Nor in Rivendell.”

“I am not surprised. It went out of style when I was still a child, mostly on account of the ability to build larger structures, a return to more natural options for some, and the upkeep of such rooms. This one is actually rather small, when you consider an entire family might fit in here--aunts, uncles, cousins, and great generations. It was harder to get everyone into a single space; such rooms were usually built by a community, but some had private spaces for just their family. Remind me to show you the one on my grandfather’s estate when we are next on the mainland.” Finya plucked one of the candles from the wall. “I would like to have you perform the ceremony with me. I would like for you to...make it official, I suppose.”

“Finya.” Glorfindel smiled. “I would be honored.”

Finya smiled. “The first part of the ceremony is to use a candle to dribble enough wax on the table to scratch the name into. Then, while holding the person, or holding their hands--remember, this is usually for babies and couples--each participant says the name of the person three times. The candle is blown out, the wax is scraped from the table, and both the wax and candle are taken from the room. For three nights, the wax is placed under the pillow of the person while they sleep. The candle is lit before they fall asleep and blown out after they awaken. If the candle is able to be lit on the fourth day, it is said that Eru’s blessing has been given for the name.”

“That is why you chose such a long candle,” realized Glorfindel. “I would have expected a different color.”

The candle, which was red, was handed to Glorfindel. “You accept?” asked Finya.

Glorfindel held the candle aside and gave Finya a kiss. “I already know that Eru has blessed us both, but I am especially honored to have you choose me for this.”

“Well...you are my husband,” Finya reminded him.

Glorfindel surged forward to kiss Finya again. “As I said, it is my honor.” Glorfindel had to stretch his arm as he approached the table, but he began to drip a puddle of wax onto the surface. He tried to focus on this task, but in his mind, he also offered prayers to Erestor and especially Maedhros.

Back in the main room, progress was being made. Without another word, Erestor led to the side altar and stood silently. He held onto the solid waist while the gray eyes studied the lit candles and the graceful carving. The cleric had unobtrusively followed them and lingered back at a respectful distance.

“I remember these,” Maedhros said bitterly. “They were beautiful, and they were an easy means to start everything on fire once we had committed our destruction. I do not even precisely know what they are meant for. I know my mother and Fingon would both talk about lighting them; I never got up the courage to ask for details.”

“Prayers, but again, they are symbolic,” Erestor answered. “The idea is that the candle flame carries the supplicant’s prayer, keeps it alive so to speak in this sacred space, where it joins with the prayers of others. The clerics who serve add their own prayers for the blessing of those who came here.”

“So we desecrated the hopes of others.” His head drooped in shame and regret.

“No,” Erestor said, grasping Maedhros’ chin. “That lies beyond your power. No deed of Elvenkind or even Morgoth himself can accomplish such a thing, for Eru has told us that all things work to His glory. Your fires from those candles became a conflagration, shouting those hopes with the strength of thousands of voices. Do you see?”

Confusion flickered across the pale face, and the hardened expression prepared for further argument suddenly seemed at a loss.

Erestor’s arm moved to take Maedhros’ so he could step forward. Without warning, Erestor took an unlit candle and touched it to one of the flames, holding it between the two of them. His eyes looked up to his partner’s. “Father Eru, I plead for Your blessing on us this day and always. Grant Maedhros and I the strength to take whatever steps we may, together, walking in Your light.” For several seconds he held it, while the newly lit wick settled and the flame gained strength and stability. Then he offered the candle to Maedhros. “Place it in any of the glass holders, with or without any words you may have for Him,” Erestor instructed quietly.

Maedhros set it into an empty holder close to them. “Words.” He sighed. “You and Fingon make it look so easy.”

“You only say that because you were not here for all the times I could not say them.” He kissed the hand that he held reverently and with obvious love.

The flicker of the candles played off of the smooth marble walls. Manwë looked down upon them from above the altar. “Alright, then, Fingon makes it easy. I hang from a cliff for years, and he shows up, cannot do it himself, calls out to Manwë--” Maedhros snapped his fingers. “Eagle. I could continue, but you know the stories. He just knows what to say and how to say it, and I have no idea where to begin.”

“And yet he said it for you,” Erestor countered, frowning. “As did someone else that comes to mind. Maybe you need not know where to begin at all Maedhros. Maybe that too is all around you. Like what was already offered to you as a means to unburden yourself.” Still moving with elegance on the balls of his feet, the veiled elf before him guided him to face the main altar. “It does not matter to me if you take more steps; you took many of them already. Would you like to say more of what weighs down your spirit?”

Maedhros looked over his shoulder at the candles, and then to the main altar. “Doriath,” he said, the first thing coming to his mind. “There was so much I did wrong. Maglor had doubts; I should have listened to him more and listened to the others less.” Maedhros smacked the side of his head with the palm of his hand. “No. No, here I am, and I need to take responsibility. Me. Not them. Shit. I went through all my days in Middle-earth with my father’s voice in my head. That was my compass.” Maedhros rubbed his face again and mumbled something that sounded like ‘fuck me’ several times, but was garbled.

Reaching up, Erestor caressed the back of his neck, which was something of a struggle given his height but his balance was very on form just now. The pain and chaos coming from Mae could be felt but this had to be allowed. Though he did quietly notify Glorfindel that when he and Finya concluded their present activity, there was no need to linger back. Erestor also looked to the cleric for he did not have a clear sense of whether or not to intervene and hoped that this more attuned servant of their Father could offer insight.

The cleric continued to stay near, but kept enough distance so as not to seem as if he was hovering. “You said someone had doubts. Did you share those doubts?”

Maedhros continued to rub his eyes. “Never would have happened if I had listened to him. There were so many other stupid things I almost had us all do. You know who it was, every time, talking reason?”

“...Maglor?” guessed the cleric.

Maedhros uncovered his eyes and shook his head. “I never listened to Maglor, even when he said the same words. It was Fingon. It was always Fingon. And when there was no Fingon, it was just my father’s voice. I needed Fingon. I needed him so badly! As soon as I left Valinor, I lost all rights to talk to Him. But there was Fingon. He was the bridge--he was my bridge. And what had I done? I was the one who killed him! I was the one who had to rush in, and insist we go after Morgoth. It was not the Union of Fingon, it was mine. I owned it, it was my responsibility, my fault!” Maedhros stumbled to his knees again, face in his hands. “All my fault, and I never...never really told him. Never told him how very sorry I am. I am so sorry, I… I know, He must hold Fingon in some high regard, and what did I accomplish? My pride--my fucking pride. I thought I could do better than Him. I thought I was going to bring peace, defeat Morgoth, build an empire--and all I did was lead the one person I valued more than my own life into a trap. I killed him--not some fucking balrog--I did it!”

The cleric was shifting between watching Maedhros come crashing down, and Erestor’s reaction. Something seemed to manifest for the cleric, and he hastily asked Erestor, “Sir--Fingon? Finya?” He pointed down the passage to the other rooms.

Erestor nodded, closing his eyes. _Fin, ‘no need to linger’ has become ‘get Káno out here now.’ Maedhros is falling apart with guilt that Káno’s death is on his conscience. Please hurry._ He stepped in front of Maedhros and knelt there, holding onto his shoulders. “Look at me,” he insisted. When Maedhros tried to shrug his hands off, Erestor firmly took both sides of his face in his hand and wrenched his head upward. The entire face began to darken with anger, and much stronger hands clasped hard onto Erestor’s wrists. “Please,” Erestor pleaded. “Only look at me. That and nothing more.” Something in the request brought everything to a standstill and the pair remained locked together, neither moving nor blinking. Emotion between them rested on the edge of a blade.

As the message was being sent, the cleric, unknowing of the situation, hurried down the passage. It was fortuitous to have done so, for both Glorfindel and Finya were so wrapped up in the sight of the rainbow room and lit candles, with the scents from all of the candles combined, that it was only when the cleric showed up and flung the door open that there was knowledge anything was wrong. “Miss! Please--come quick. Maedhros--he is--greatly upset--we need Fingon. Please.”

For Finya to hear the request was jarring, and Glorfindel nearly dropped the candle. They exchanged glances, and now as minds were opened, both could feel the impatience and need, and the echo of Erestor’s plea. Finya removed the candle from Glorfindel’s grasp and blew it out. “This can wait. Can you...I just need a moment.”

Glorfindel nodded. “Of course. I am going to--”

“--yes, you should,” agreed Finya.

Glorfindel took off at a brisk jog back to the hall. 

Finya set the candle on the top of the table and looked at the cleric, who was still catching his breath at the doorway. “I...hope that you might be able to help me. You see, this,” she said, motioning with both hands down the length of her body, “is not Fingon.”

“I am...at your service,” he declared.

Glorfindel came to a halt upon seeing the pair on the ground, partway between the trays of candles and the main altar. “Fingon is coming,” he told them.

Erestor held on just a little tighter.

“What are you doing?” Maedhros whispered, some of the anger seeping out of his face.

“Well...I have to have a grip on something if I need to sit on you, and I might. You looked like you were going to try to toss me...somewhere.”

The brows furrowed. “If I am that mad you should not be trying to think how to get in my way, Eressë. I do not need to add hurting you to my list of screwups.”

“You would not be. I would be hurting me, not you, and I can see that you have been told nothing of what a pain in the ass I am,” he frowned back.

“What are you even talking about? If I am the one trying to–”  
  


“Now now! Not if I am the one ensuring you cannot prevent it. That is a logical fallacy. The same one, I might mention, applies to certain other reasoning circulating in this venue but I am not going to dwell on that right now except to tell you that you are conflating issues again...and I love you.”

“Uhm…” releasing one of Erestor’s wrists, Maedhros rubbed his eyes. “Gildor said something about this but I did not understand what he meant.”

“Did he?” Erestor smiled beautifully. “I was unfair to Gildor. I will in no way be unfair to you,” he said honestly. “What were we discussing?”

A sudden stomp resounded through the hall. At the archway that would lead to the other rooms stood the cleric, the source of the noise. “His Majesty, the King,” he announced, though it was quite subdued compared to any herald or valet any of them had heard before. The cleric stepped aside, and from the passage came Fingon. Most of the cosmetics remained; it seemed there was slightly less gloss on the lips, but eyelids were still brilliantly painted. Gloves obscured the manicured nails, and what appeared to be a richly embroidered curtain or tablecloth had been fashioned into something of a cloak that also draped over the front of the dress being worn. It was hard to tell exactly what was being used for a crown, but as Fingon came closer, Glorfindel knew. It was a portion of the wax from the floor, with the streaks serving as points on the newly fashioned crown. Fingon paused a moment to take in everything going on, and to adjust to slightly brighter light than in the passageway.

To Maedhros he walked, just as majestically as one would expect a king to walk. He stopped before him, looked down, and held out one hand. “Stand,” was all he said, a simple and quiet command.

Maedhros bowed his head.

“You would disobey your king?”

Maedhros looked up. “I did disobey. I started a war we could never win.”

Fingon continued to look down, hand still extended. “I was king. I could have stopped it any time I wanted. You were not the only prideful warlord in Middle-earth. Stand,” he repeated.

Erestor scuttled to one side, not about to be part of the problem. At the moment he felt slightly bewildered, and had turned to kneel next to Maedhros. Not knowing what else to do and seeing the redhead hesitate, he pinched his ass. Hard.

Maedhros gave a slight yelp. He had already taken hold of Fingon’s hand and was contemplating his next move, but Erestor provided additional persuasion. As soon as he was on his feet, Fingon said, “All of us make decisions. Your decisions did not kill me. If anything, my decisions were what led to my death. But, I am not going to dwell on decisions made a lifetime ago. Erestor, will you please go and stand at the altar?”

At once Erestor did as he was asked, gracefully gliding over, though just when he reached his destination a sharp hitch along his hip caused a quick intake of air. His body was cooling down from its vigorous workout and a few places were lodging their opinion of his performance. Alas, the tribulations of age. Smiling gently, he waited for whatever came next.

“You have a decision before you now, Maedhros. You can linger in the past, and use words like ‘blame’ and ‘fault’, and deny yourself the majesty of a kingdom greater than I could ever provide, or, you can tell Him that you made mistakes, as we all do, and that you know and accept you did, and that you intend to do better. I forgive you, Maedhros. I made a mistake of telling you once that I could never forgive you. That was wrong of me.” Fingon stretched up and kissed Maedhros’ forehead. “I forgive you. He will, too. All you have to do is ask. The mistake all of us made tonight is thinking we were the ones to lead you. You need to do this yourself--and you can, I know you can. Maybe now is not the right time, but, maybe it is. So, what are you going to do?”

Erestor’s chin trembled to see and hear their discourse, and he swiftly turned his back so that none of them could see his tears fall. He had said enough already; too much, and emotional blackmail did not need to add to the list. His eyes lifted, blurred, ignoring the effigy of Manwë. _Since_ _everyone is asking forgiveness, I will ask another pardon for something I have not clearly seen. This desperate wanting, that a loved one will choose a straight path to find a way to Your light. How many times did someone who loved me know this same pain and I was the cause of it? I am sorry, Father. I did not know._

The change in Erestor’s demeanor was noted by Maedhros. He broke away from Fingon and came immediately to Erestor’s side. “Are you alright?” he worried. Both arms protectively came around Erestor. “Please...is there anything I can do?” he asked. A slight pause, and then, “I love you.”

Erestor held him tightly, eyes now squeezed shut. _Fin? Fin you have to speak for me, I cannot. I am unable to answer his question to me until he answers Káno’s question to him. It would be a sin. Can you...he has to answer the question...please?_

Glorfindel appeared surprised but had some guesses. Clearing his throat he approached the pair as Erestor fought not to burst into sobs. “Maedhros, he asked me to speak to you because he cannot. He said, you must first answer Findekáno’s question.” With an awkward little half-smile, Glorfindel backed away a little, nervously glancing between the parties.

“Fingon’s question?” Maedhros was so singularly focused on Erestor’s emotional state, the question had been forgotten.

“Past, or future? Self-loathing, or forgiveness?”

“I am...still struggling with what to say. I do not know what to say to Him. You keep saying, say whatever, but...I have no words. I do not know what to say, and all that keeps coming out are emotional confessions.” Maedhros’ words were laced with frustration.

“Alright, well, I am not one to be providing spiritual guidance, but...what if Erestor and I build a dialogue for you to repeat, and fill in what you can? I can start, if Erestor needs me to, and our friend here,” said Fingon, motioning to the cleric, “can certainly fill in parts we miss.”

Turning into his own veil, Erestor continued to silently cry, gasping for air and trying to hide it. Still Maedhros would not commit to this simple thing and he felt so frustrated and upset he...suddenly experienced a moment of great insight: _This was not right_. It was not right to want something this badly when it was someone else’s path to walk and though it still hurt to relinquish his perceived investment in the outcome, he saw the mistake. He calmed himself focusing on the steady heartbeat he loved, and would love regardless. The rest of the room fell away while he became absorbed in only this and the arms that held him.

“If I may,” spoke the cleric, “I would like to make a suggestion. What if I have all four of you kneel here before the altar. There is much that has happened here tonight, and I would like to offer a blessing, after which time, should there be more any of you wish to say, you most certainly may do so.”

Erestor felt himself moved by Maedhros and peeked out, wiping at his eyes. Obviously he had missed something but was being guided to kneel next to him and did so; it comforted him that Maedhros kept an arm firmly around his shoulder and that he was pressed up against him without a hair’s breadth in between. Erestor tried to dip forward to see where Káno and Glorfindel were but veil and red hair were in the way and the cleric was preparing to do something. Out of courtesy he gave up and held still.

 _I am here._ A moment later, Glorfindel was on the other side of Erestor, placing an arm around his waist. _By your side, as I should be._

_Oh Fin,_ Erestor pressed affectionately in acknowledgement. _How much you mean to me._

Only Fingon hesitated. Between the bulk of the fabric draped over him, the dress underneath, and the psychological strain of being freely in her happy place for once to be yanked into someone else’s emotional needs was causing a lot of feelings. A quick glance around helped to make a decision. “I am going to sit here.” It was the bench nearest the altar, and the cleric nodded and took his place before the others.

“Dear Lord, we call upon You this night, and ask for guidance for all Your children assembled here. You, who made us, imperfect as we are, as You meant, by the designs of Your thoughts. We ask humbly for Your forgiveness for transgressions of the past, and we ask You for Your guidance as we walk blindly into the future, but have now with us the wisdom gained from mistakes we have made, a wisdom You have provided us. We know we are imperfect, and may sin again, and again be forgiven by You if our hearts be true and our thoughts pure. We praise You, Oh Lord, for gifting us with the ability to sense right from wrong, and for listening to us always and keeping forever a watchful eye upon us all.” The cleric looked over the group. “If anyone wishes to speak independently, please, feel free to do so now. I would like to light candles for you all,” he said, and he made good on this and went to the side altar to pray alone.

A moment passed with the three at the altar being silent. Then Fingon cleared his throat behind them and said, “Dear Lord, I would like to apologize for taking Your name in vain earlier...several times... when I was stomping around outside and kicking rocks onto the walkway. I also do not really want to apologize for the unsavory names I called my father-in-law whilst I was out there, but I know I should, so I shall. I was not in a place of calm, and I know better, and I will continue to try to improve my outbursts and anger on matters I have little control over, for I do recognize I can control myself. Sometimes. Sorry.”

As Fingon spoke, Maedhros slowly looked over his shoulder. Many times, he had been near Fingon while the younger was silently praying, but few times had he heard words spoken aloud. “Is that really how you speak to Him?”

“That is how I do it, but everyone must do what they feel best. I like to speak to Him like I am speaking to a friend.”

“That...sounds slightly less intimidating,” said Maedhros.

“Father Eru,” Glorfindel frowned. “I was sure the day of my accident years ago that I had no future. That my life should be over. One of the men here today was the start of my surety being ruined because that was not Your plan for me. Thank you for Maedhros. I have tried to learn to listen better to Your guidance. I ask that You help me to listen better still. You have blessed me with much and I wish to give thanks for that however I may.”

Maedhros folded his hands. “I, uhm…” He closed his eyes so as to better ignore the imposing sculpture of Manwë above. “I am sorry for many things--so many, I do not know where to begin. I have tried to be a better man, but I know I could do better, and I hope...maybe this can help with that. I, uhm...I am...trying, I am a little overwhelmed right now, so I will, uhm...try to say more later.” He opened his eyes and stared at his hands.

“I love You, that You care about us and help us,” Erestor said softly. “I still struggle to know what to do and to understand and You have just shown me what it is to want with all my heart for someone I love to find healing. To linger at the edge of despair, knowing they might choose otherwise. On one side of me is the man who delivered the lesson, but on the other is the man whose forgiveness I beg for the pain I did not realize I caused every time I walled myself away from confessing the truths of my past to him so that I could become fully present. I am sorry, Father, and I will seek to do better now that You have given me this understanding. Please bless our family.”

When it appeared to the cleric that everyone had said what they needed, he came back to the group and addressed Fingon first. “I apologize for disturbing you earlier.”

Fingon gave a half-smile and said, “Once a king, always a king. If I might trouble you further--”

“Please; use the naming room as long as you like. We are open at all hours, and there is no reason I must shut it down at a particular time,” the cleric said.

“Thank you.” Fingon approached Glorfindel and touched his shoulder. “I should like to finish what we started. The rest of you are welcome to join us if you like.”

“If I might trouble you further,” said the cleric with a smile of his own, “I would like to speak privately with these two before they join you.” He was standing before Maedhros and Erestor. Glorfindel gave Erestor a peck on the cheek and followed after Fingon down the corridor. Both Maedhros and Erestor looked up at the cleric nervously. “I have spent a long time here in this temple, and I have seen a great many people come through these doors. There are two things which I think I know right now. The two of you are at the very beginning of what will likely be a long and loving relationship. While it is not mandated, I get the feeling one of you might be a Sedryner, and it is recommended that one attend spiritual counseling during the first few years. I would most certainly be willing to act as sponsor to your attendance in one of my sessions.”

Erestor glanced up at Maedhros, uncertain how he would feel about this, not to mention… “For my part I would humbly consent but sir, I mentioned to you before that once I served as you do now and was cast out. You told me you did not…” the dark lashes swept down and he swallowed, seeking for words. “I only do not wish to offend,” he finished quietly.

“You will not be cast from here,” said the cleric with certainty.

“How often does this counseling occur?” asked Maedhros.

“Every other month, though you are free to seek me out more regularly if either or both of you request it,” was the answer. “There are other couples there as well; sometimes, simply listening to others says much.”

“So I would not have to talk if I do not want to?”

The cleric shook his head.

Maedhros looked at Erestor. “I would do this with you,” he said.

Taking both his hands, Erestor held them tightly. “This is very hard for me...I want this with you very badly, but even more I do not want you to feel obligated on my account. Please know that if you change your mind I want to know. Do not come here to please me. That would make me feel terrible.”

“I think this would be much easier for me to do for you than what I have attempted tonight,” said Maedhros.

“You need not decide now. A moment, if you will excuse me,” begged the cleric. “There is something I wish to retrieve. Please wait here.”

Nodding, a smile returned. “Then I will believe your words and honor your decisions. This is the most interesting outing – may I refer to it as a date? – that I have ever had. You have brought me many kinds of joy though I know your experience was a more difficult and different one. I look forward so much to the time we will have, just the two of us. I know just what I want to do with you,” Erestor murmured, eyes shining.

“This is certainly one of the most unusual dates I have ever been on,” agreed Maedhros. “And that includes most of the things Fingon convinced me to do.” He tapped Erestor on the nose. “I think you should be aware that the other two ‘first dates’ I have been on have both ended up in bed-ish with the other party. Not saying it has to end in that fashion, but I think we stand a solid chance of ending up in the same bed tonight, and I do like snuggling.”

Erestor chuckled. “I am hardly known for adversity to intimacies, Maitimo. I will be looking to you so that I do not overstep. I know that you are not Fingon. You see, that is just it. I really...do not know, and you and others will be my teachers. I want to please you,” he spoke in barely a whisper given their surroundings.

“Oh, you have pleased me very much tonight already,” he answered back, but said no more as the cleric approached again. 

“Sorry it took so long. I thought these might help.” He had a small stack of books, all of them relatively thin. “We have a number of people who instruct the youth as to the different beliefs of their families, and I thought you might like to look through these yourself. I mean not to say you are like a child, but there are few items like these that I know of for adults. They have basic information, prayers, holy days, and so on. I have six different ones here, if you would like them.”

Maedhros held out a hand. “Thank you. I am not insulted--I think some would say, if Eru is the Father, are we not all His children?”

The cleric smiled and handed the books to him. “I believe you are correct.” He then looked at Erestor. “Sir, you may have been...ousted by those on the mainland, but we do not recognize their authority here. We could use someone with your eloquence here in the temple. If ever you feel the call again, please, consider serving here.”

Startled, Erestor’s face played several emotions in quick succession. “I shall consider your kind offer...but this is not what was in my thought when I mentioned offering one sermon to satisfy Maedhros’ curiosity. Besides, before that could happen I would need further assistance. Perhaps I can think of it as something toward which I may strive, or at least discuss more on another occasion.”

“Of course. I just wanted you to know that you would have a home here.” The cleric smiled and said, “I get letters from them now and then. They find the thought of a temple for all an abhorrent idea. The letters, however, make excellent kindling, so I have never written back.”

Something between a laugh, chortle and snort came out of Erestor who hurriedly covered the lower half of his face; slightly embarrassed but more pleased than anything else. When he digested the thought even a few seconds longer, he genuinely smiled. “I bless you for such compassion; I found what befell me to be...devastating.” The last word was shared with great hesitation. “I think I owe you an introduction amidst the probable muddle of our names, please pardon me. I am Erestor; here is Maedhros. Glorfindel and...well I am pretty sure Fingon and Finya were worked out.”

“I am Élarminë,” said the cleric. “I have seen most of you here before. I am very familiar with Fingon and Finya, though I did not have names before tonight.” There was a brief pause. “They? They have been here many times before. Normally, they are very conflicted. We have spoken often, but it was hard for me to know what they were seeking. This is the first time I have seen them with some amount of peace, and authority. I will continue to pray, but I feel that Eru has listened and answered.”

“This has been such a good day,” Erestor smiled. “I did not know our...I have said husband but I should ask what is wanted...spent so much time here. That comforts me. I have wanted to help for so long – but not as long as some.” Raising his eyes, he batted his eyes at Maedhros teasingly. “You were outnumbered, love.”

“Where did they go?” asked Maedhros. “Glorfindel and Fingon--they are down there?” he asked, pointing in the direction of the passage. The books he held in his other hand.

“Yes. Would you like to join them? I believe that was the intent,” said Élarminë.

“Please, lead on,” Erestor asked.

Élarminë took them down the passageway to the room at the end of the hall. Outside the door on a chair was the curtain or whatever it was that Fingon had been wearing. Inside of the room, laughter could be heard. The trio stood at the doorway for a moment until they were noticed. It seemed that Fingon – no, Finya – had been in the middle of a story she was telling Glorfindel while he laughed along and held a candle over the center table. “I know what this is,” realized Maedhros. “I have not seen one of these since Celebrimbor was born.”

Erestor kept his hand and moved them out of the doorway so the cleric could also enter. They stood in a place to watch but not interfere, though the sight of Glorfindel up on his toes adorably dripping red wax on the stone was certainly admired.

Crooking a finger, Finya beckoned the others to join them. “You should be here, too,” she said, directing the comment to Maedhros. “You were the first to name me as Finya.”

Maedhros set the books on the edge of the table and let go of Erestor’s hand in order to embrace Finya. “Thank you for what you did out there. I imagine that was difficult, considering.”

Finya stared at the flame of the candle. “May we speak of that at home? I would like to focus on this right now.” She hugged Maedhros back and said, “I am glad you are both with us. I wish Gildor could be here as well. I hope he is not too hungry when we get home--we are going to need to reheat his meal and the food for Eruglar.”

“We will have to awaken him to learn if he is hungry. Eruglar has been fed at least something approximating a meal. They were both very tired,” Maedhros murmured, nuzzling Finya. “I too am glad to be here and I know I speak for Erestor as well.”

“I think this is ready,” said Glorfindel as he tipped the candle back up again.

The cleric came over to assess. “This is fine. I will retrieve a stylus for you.” Élarminë was not gone long, and returned with a slender reed with a rounded tip.

Glorfindel looked down at the wax puddle and smiled. He glanced up at Erestor. “I am only able to do this because of you,” he said, and he carefully etched the characters into the wax.

“I...how? I do not understand,” Erestor smiled, curious.

“It was ages ago, so I suppose you might not remember. How many pupils have you had in your life?” he teased. To Élarminë, Glorfindel said, “He taught me how to write, and to read.”

“Powerful skills,” declared Élarminë. “You have very nice penmanship.”

“Just like his. His is better,” corrected Glorfindel.

“Glorfindel will not say that he has used his learning to gain scientific and research skills that far exceed my endeavors,” Erestor humbly mentioned. “That matters a great deal more than lettering.”

“If you are going to speak such admirations, then I think we need to acknowledge that you have a more mathematical mind than you tend to let on,” countered Glorfindel. “Though, I did enjoy ‘teaching’ you basic arithmetic. And algebra. And geometry.” He winked.

“I was just testing your skills,” Erestor coolly answered back.

Glorfindel raised a brow. “Just my mathematical skills?”

Maedhros swung his head back and forth as he listened to the volley of comments between the pair. Finya reached over to snatch the candle from Glorfindel. “This is fascinating. We want to know more,” she hastened. 

“But not right now?” guessed Glorfindel.

Finya tapped her nose. “Everyone around the table, please.”

Allowing Maedhros what he considered the honor of standing closest to Finya, Erestor waited to be led and thus stood opposite Finya. He easily retained Maedhros’ hand by virtue of his long arm and extended his other hand to Glorfindel. “I calculate that we are prepared,” he told Finya with much gravitas, not quite able to completely refrain from being a smartass.

“Élarminë,” called out Finya when it looked like the cleric was going to bow out. “We have room for you here.”

Looking slightly surprised, the cleric said, “I did not realize you knew my name.”

“To be honest, I am terrible with remembering names. Unsure of some family members terrible. However, if someone is very important in my life, I make an effort. You have been kind to me every time I am here, and any time you have seen me at the market or anywhere else. If you are willing, I would like you to join us,” said Finya.

With a willing smile, Élarminë joined them, stepping between Erestor and Maedhros, then backed up, considered sliding between Erestor and Glorfindel, and stepped back again. “Perhaps...I should stand here?” he said from a few paces away.

“No, please come here,” Erestor invited him warmly, creating space between Glorfindel. “We confuse ourselves all the time with placement, this is very home-like. Welcome and I am grateful you will be with us.”

Once all five were at the table, everyone opted to continue to join hands in a circle. “You have probably attended more of these than the rest of us,” Finya said to Erestor. “Would you do me the honor of beginning the ceremony?”

“I would, but I might not be as knowledgeable as you think,” said Erestor. “Remember, I did not grow up with this, and in Middle-earth, it was a lost art.”

“I can start, if you like.” Maedhros glanced at Finya. “Big family, lots of names. That last one with the Ambarussa was...interesting. Father forbid them for us after that; I always wondered what he would think if he knew what we did for Celebrimbor.”

“I would like that. It would be appropriate. You were the one who came up with Finya, after all.”

Maedhros looked up at the ceiling. “Dear Lord, we ask for Your presence today. We name this member of our family before You.” He turned to Finya as she turned to him. Taking her into his arms very loosely, he said, “I give unto you the name Finya. Do you accept the name Finya as your own?”

“I do,” she replied.

“Then thou shall be named Finya.” They hugged tightly, a moment lingering as Maedhros whispered something the others could not hear and Finya nodded. Then Finya moved to Erestor, and the words were repeated by each participant as she made her way around the group. 

Finally, upon reaching Glorfindel, she embraced him before he could speak and said, “Thank you for everything tonight. This would not be possible without you.”

Glorfindel seemed a little lost and about to protest, but instead settled into the hold and craned his neck back to regard the golden eyes he loved so much. “You are welcome, Finya. I am with you.” Reaching up on his toes, he gave a quick kiss to her chin before settling back down. He repeated as the others had. “I give unto you the name Finya. Do you accept the name Finya as your own?”

Finya nodded and kissed Glorfindel’s nose. “I do.”

“Then thou shalt be named Finya.” Glorfindel snuggled against Finya for a moment before he let her go. She returned to the spot where she started, leaned in, and blew out the candle at the center of the table.

Erestor hugged Maedhros tightly, watching in happy security from under the folds of fabric, wondering at all the positive changes the day had provided. Some trepidation tapped at the fringes of this; too often good things proved ephemeral but he reminded himself there was no reason that had to be the case here. While he waited for the rest of the ceremony to conclude, he prayed.

Élarminë waited for the wick to cool, then wrapped the candle in white cloth. The wax with Finya’s name etched into it was carefully removed and wrapped as well, then both were presented to Finya. 

“Thank you so much for accommodating us as you have tonight,” said Finya. “I know you have many tasks, and I know you probably like to go home at some point.”

“This is also my home,” the cleric assured her. “You are welcome to stay longer if you wish.”

“We should really attend to the rest of our family at home. They are awaiting our return with their supper,” Finya explained.

“Do not let me keep you, then,” said Élarminë. “If I might ask, though--Erestor, would you please stay a moment? I would like to speak with you in private, if you would not mind the indulgence. It will not take long.”

Finya looked to Erestor. “We can wait for you in the carriage,” suggested Finya.

Erestor nodded slowly, releasing Maedhros with a little reluctance and waited while the others left, briefly adjusting his veil so that his face was not so utterly hidden within the fabric. He waited with folded hands and head slightly bowed until the others had gone, some fear and nervousness settling over him though he knew this should not be the case.

“You were...I hesitate to say insistant with Maedhros, but you persisted. I am taking the liberty to do the same, with you. Eru would not have you coming here with such frequency if He did not have it in His plan to want you here. You are uncertain because of something that happened long ago elsewhere. This place is different. The people here are different. They could use someone like you at the pulpit. I think deep inside, you know this. You are holding back on the authority you know you can expound. And I know I am not normally so bold, so I can only believe this courage is coming from our Father. Tonight was very emotional for all of you. I do not ask for an answer now. I am free tomorrow. May I call upon you, to pray and speak of an opportunity here for you?” Élarminë held his breath.

Chin trembling, Erestor took one of the cleric’s hands between both of his. “You may. But my reluctance is more than you believe.” Tears pooled and fell. “It is not only that I was excommunicated, and that I am a homosexual married to more than one ellon. It is that I was every kind of a liar, an alcoholic, a drug addict, spiritually unfaithful to my husband, and that I am not very long in recovery from ages of this and worse even when I served Eru in the past. I will confess to you freely, Élarminë, but I am afraid of my own stability.”

“You cannot see what is right before you. Your trials are exactly why you are uniquely qualified and invited. Do you know how many people end up on this island who are homosexual? Bisexual? Polysexual? Gender questioning? If they speak to people on the mainland, they face excommunication if they do not repent and conform. Do you know how many people who live here turn to alcohol and drugs because of the circumstances here? They would be judged harshly on the mainland. Adultery, thievery, liars, blasphemers...they all come through these doors. Those of us who tend this place, we do our best, but we are seen as far too perfect to understand them, and so some never make it inside--like Maedhros. Voices have told them for a long time that they are unworthy. You know this is not true--you said as much tonight to Maedhros--but you need that for yourself, too. Imagine how much good you can do, when someone comes here and says no one understands--and you can say, I do.”

Erestor’s head bowed. “What time will you call?” he asked quietly.

“When would be a good time?”

“Please come for tea? Then I would feel less uncivil toward you and can offer some hospitality. Four o’clock?”

“I will bring the cake,” offered Élarminë. “Thank you. And thank you for your honesty, Erestor. Bless you. May you have a calm and safe ride home.”

“Thank you for what you have done for my family.” Hand held over his pounding heart, Erestor withdrew. His anxiety had gone to a place for which he had no means of description; it was something of an emotional paresis that left him appearing unruffled when he returned to the carriage.

“Everything alright?” asked Maedhros as he patted the empty seat on his side of the carriage. “Did he, uh, tell you not to have me come back?” he half-joked.

“He told me how grateful he was that you came and how many like you who are suffering never do,” Erestor said seriously, not looking at him but taking the offered seat.

Maedhros put an arm around Erestor. “And? You were in there quite a while.” He rubbed Erestor’s shoulder as the horses began their way down the road again.

“I agreed to speak with him more tomorrow. I invited him to tea, which I hope I might ask someone to help me with, a little. He wants me to serve as a cleric there. Because one fuckup knows how it is for other fuckups, if I am going to put it with brutal tactlessness.” He turned toward Maedhros and clung to him, hiding again behind his veil.

“Well, as a fellow fuckup,” said Maedhros, “I suppose if you did it and it went wrong, you could always tell them, hey, you knew going into this I was a fuckup. The excuse works for me all the time.”

Finya remained quiet on the other side of the carriage, but leaned into Glorfindel a little more.

“Fin? Maybe not this second but before he comes tomorrow, I want especially your opinion. Is this too much? He thinks I can help others and I will want to help others too. It is also how I have sown the seeds of my own destruction more than once. It is a lot of why I am afraid. We have plans, the family. New projects, new jobs. I am starting a new position. And...I find I do not even want to talk about this right now. This is Finya and Maedhros’ day. Just...mmmmfff.” The dark head made further (very entertaining) attempts to snuggle against Maedhros, sort of burrowing under his thick hair so that it appeared Erestor’s veil wore a wig. Glorfindel tried hard to stifle his giggle at the sight.

“What if you were not...stationed there? Could they just refer people to you?” asked Finya. “I think I understand a little what might be asked? There were dozens of clerics in Dor-lómin--”

“Oh, this,” mumbled Maedhros.

“--but after too many times of listening to thinly veiled references to kinslayings, I went out of my way to go to Nargothrond when I could for confession, because I was not about to spill my soul to those judgemental assholes. There was a cleric in Nargothrond who was himself a kinslayer; he was the only person I felt comfortable talking to in that way.”

“Dunno,” Maedhros’ hair said in a distant muffle.

Glorfindel, unable to stand it, reached across and grabbed Erestor’s waist. “Someone needs kisses!” The veil was drawn back enough for someone to receive a thorough smooching until he was laughing and flailing in protest. Satisfied, Glorfindel returned him to Maedhros, dimples and mischief on full display. Even Finya cracked a smile though she had been talking about kinslayers, which Glorfindel counted as a personal best.


	7. Chapter 7

They arrived home to find the cottage dark, with Asfaloth waiting on the front stoop. “I brought my snacks out here so I would not wake them,” he explained, pointing at the empty bowls which once contained sugar cubes and carrots. “Gildor needed a lot of sleep. He is being a super dad, but someone needs to teach him about naps, and guiding children constructively, and limitations on playtime, and diversionary tactics. Of course, I am just a horse, so I leave that to all of you. My dad skills stop at telling the mare ‘good job’ and asking if she has a sister.”

Glorfindel stared. “It sounds like I owe you a nice brushing and that you have a story to tell me, not necessarily in that order. What do you think about that idea?”

Asfaloth held up his empty bowls. “I will settle for a refill tonight, a brushing tomorrow, and just, please, someone needs to enroll Gildor in dad school. He is a great best friend, but that child is a lot, and it is going to wear him down, and I miss sassy Gildor.”

“Alright. Refill, tea with me, we sit somewhere quiet and you tell me what happened?” Glorfindel counter offered.

“Not much to tell. Anything the child wants, Gildor gives him, from snacks to reading stories to playing another game. I intervened with a ride--I know two-leg children like to fall asleep on calm horseback rides--and sent them both to bed.” Asfaloth held up the bowls again. “Refill, please!” He batted his long white eyelashes.

Finya, holding the bag of clothing, was shaking her head and smiling. She glanced at Maedhros, who said, “No, you do not get to give advice.”

“I have been accused of being too indulgent with my children,” said Finya. “However, I just want to take this upstairs, so I can at least go up and get them to come down while the food is reheated. I promise not to suggest any of my unconventional methods without your permission.”

“I would like to make use of the pool outside for a time,” Erestor mumbled. “If I do not there will be consequences later. I am going to retrieve clean clothing and towels, pardon me.” Moving past them, he hurried up the steps to the room he shared with Fingon and Glorfindel and could be heard opening drawers. While all five now slept together in the room on the third floor with the immense bed, not everything had been moved yet to their new quarters.

“If you do not mind,” said Finya, stopping at the doorway, “would you grab some lounge pants for me? I think I will join you after I wake up Gildor, if that is alright.” She set the bag down just inside of the door.

“Of course it is,” Erestor said distractedly, nabbing what he had been asked to bring. His cooling muscles were well into a dialogue with him and several of the exchanges had not been genteel. A sense of impending pain he wished to elude hovered like a cloud of gnats closing in on their quarry and most of his thought was bent on getting to the hot water. “Yes,” he remembered to add to his response, “see you soon, love. I will have towels for you also.”

Finya stepped over and kissed the top of Erestor’s head. “Much appreciated, cupcake.” She took a guess that Gildor would only have made it to the second floor; the hunch turned out to be correct. Eruglar had been tucked into the bed, and Gildor was asleep in the chair. “Someone else is going to need a hot bath for aching muscles,” Finya said to herself. She leaned over Gildor and shook his shoulder slightly. 

“Hmm? Oh...ow!” As expected, Gildor’s hand went to his neck. He yawned, stretched, and opened his eyes. 

And stared.

The golden eyes were unmistakable. “Fingon?”

A smile, and a shake of her head. “Finya.”

“Ah.” Gildor pinched his own arm. Not a dream. “For...permanent, or not?”

“Yes and no,” answered Finya carefully.

“I am open to and accepting of whatever you wish to tell me, Finya.” He held out a welcoming hand. “You are loved and respected by me of all people.”

“Well… I want to make sure you and Eruglar can have supper… though, I suppose it is still being heated.” So Finya perched on Gildor’s knee and said, “We went to the Peacock, and we met some very nice people, and one of them just...read me like a book. It was honestly a little frightening at first, but I was slightly inebriated, and they were nice, and I even got up on stage and...I guess I came out tonight, and it was exciting and terrifying and freeing and then I panicked, as I tend to, but I managed to keep myself from running away entirely. So, progress, I guess.”

“No guess,” Gildor smiled, visibly admiring the sight before his eyes. “I am happy for you...and if I am not mistaken you are a peacock...no, wait...peahen now? That is a great honor and well-deserved. You are beautiful. You feel good about what happened?” he asked hopefully.

“I think so. I think I have to see how I feel in the morning. That reminds me…” She pulled the envelope she had tucked away out. “We have some friends who are going to be coming by next week. You are going to love them.” The address was set aside and Finya pulled the rest of the contents of the envelope out. Some glitter spilled onto both her lap and Gildor’s. “Sorry about that. I did not expect that to be in there,” she apologized as she unfolded the multi-sheet letter that had been inside.

“I like glitter,” Gildor brushed the concern aside. “Glitter is like cheer. It gets everywhere and defies attempts to contain it. Mark my words. You will spend hours trying to pick up every last bit of that and three weeks later you will still be finding it in your belly button. You just watch!”

Finya laughed and shook what she could of the glitter into the envelope. “I believe you! Let me see…” The light was low, but what little starlight streamed in was enough for Finya to read. “Huh. This peacock and peahen thing is pretty, um, serious or something? This reads like a proclamation.” She mumbled through the words, paused, and looked up. “This does not have my name. It keeps referring to ‘Sugar’. Wait. They kept calling me that… I thought it was just a...hmm.” She furrowed her brows and reread the paper. “Do they all use assumed names? I feel you understand more of this than I do.”

“Yes. You are named by the person who brings you into the flock. To be chosen to be one at all is rare, precious. It is induction into a family for those who need family based on what they have been denied because of their sexuality. You obviously made a tremendous impression. This was not a small thing; you have gained support you can barely imagine. Another family under another roof. I think you need this. Something to do with no one here, where no one knows you, your past; where you are only yourself. I did not expect this but to say I am glad is the biggest understatement I will speak today.”

She shuffled the pages to the next sheet and looked even more confused. “This makes no sense. This is the same as the first, just, with blanks for the name.” She held them next to each other, and then it dawned on her. “Oh! I think I understand. Because of how I am. Peahen,” she said holding up the one with ‘Sugar’ written on it. “Peacock.” She smiled and shook her head. “Name to be determined. What else do we have...oh. Well. They are serious about having me play harp. We have some sheet music, and a list of common tunes, and a personal note…’exquisite playing...no one playing harp in a long time...cannot guarantee a salary, but tips are plentiful...no strict commitment required’...I think he is offering me a job,” she said in shock.

“That just tells me they know how to run a business too,” Gildor smiled with a wink. “Because honey, I would snap you up in a hot second. I would want your fingers all over my strings.”

“Would you now?” Finya stuffed the items back into the envelope, causing a small puff of glitter to be expelled. “My fingers, or Fingon’s fingers?” she teased.

“Definitely yours, I – wait, is this a trick question?” Gildor appeared slightly panicked after realizing what he had said, and flushed while he tried to salvage his response. “That is verbal sleight of something! I merely mean that your appearance is extremely stunning, Finya. Clearly a lot of effort went into this and I am nothing if not aesthetically appreciative.”

“I did not mean to cause anxiety,” apologized Finya as she tapped Gildor’s nose. “I know what a clever flirt you are; I just never had the courage to flirt with you before. Kind of nice, really.” She kissed his cheek. “Changing topics to something I was just reminded of...anxiety. Social anxiety. I hate to interrupt flirting to ask you a ‘work’ question, but it came up tonight. I thought that sort of thing required significant trauma, and...pfff...alright, more basic question. Am I...am I crazy or something? Mentally...wrong? Sorry to put you on the spot; we stopped at the temple to pray, and I asked for clarity on it, but, I am impatient and you are a professional…”

“Sweetie...let us back up the wagons for a moment,” Gildor said gently. “You want to talk about anxiety, is what I think I am hearing? Anxiety you feel you may be experiencing? Which I am very glad to do. But I have two questions for you. Are you comfortable talking here, as you are, and independent of that, may I please use the water closet so that I may focus on you and not how much I need to pee? Because I would really like to have that be a thing.” Gildor blinked his eyes a few times, hoping that had not been too...unprofessional.

“You have no idea how much I need to pee, too. I have not untucked myself for *hours* and I am probably going to regret it later. All of this is a little numb,” Finya said, motioning at her groin. “I should do that, but I know once I do that, I am going to...feel more like Fingon again, so I think we just play discussion by ear. I promised Erestor I was going to go out to the water to join him--you should pee, I should pee, Eruglar should get up and eat, maybe he needs to pee, too, there is food for you, maybe we can try talking again later,” hurried Finya. The envelope was placed aside on the table, and before any more conversation could occur, Finya shuffled out of the room in search of the nearest unoccupied washroom.

Gildor followed at a respectful distance, as much to admire the view as to find his way outdoors; he did not see Maedhros or the others which puzzled him but he could work that out after he found a place to relieve himself outside (seeing no need to be dainty). Taking care of nature allowed him time to catch the wonderful scent of his food being reheated, which encouraged the kitchen and handwashing as his next destination.

Maedhros had taken up the task of heating the food while Asfaloth and Glorfindel sat at the table to keep Maedhros company. “Good to see you, my love,” Maedhros said as Gildor entered. “Soup is almost ready, and the rest will be done shortly. They packed along an entire chocolate cake, too, but we are going to be respectful and wait for you and Eruglar to eat supper before we move to dessert. How was your day with your son?”

“Mae Mae!” Gildor whimpered, walking toward Maedhros as though no sight on Arda could possibly be finer. “Thank you for your kindness in bringing us food; we had a very nice day! Busy, busy! I hope I may hold you for a moment,” he asked. All that had been difficult was left unsaid; those were the responsibilities he had chosen. Unquestionably worth it if he might just have some respite in his husband’s arms. Nothing felt so wonderful as the simple hug, which even Gildor found strange. A deep sigh of pure contentment followed. “Tell me all about what happened! So much excitement, it seems!”

“Much excitement.” Maedhros recounted the day as he kept one arm around Gildor and continued cooking with one hand--he had practice with that, he reflected privately. Food was served, Eruglar was retrieved, and very soon after eating was sleepily tucked back in again.

“It was a full day,” said Asfaloth as he stirred his tea, which was lumpy due to the amount of sugar in it.

Gildor leaned his head against Maedhros and closed his eyes. “The horse is very kindly not saying that Gildor did not know what he was doing and the child ran the show. I know it, just as I know that I owe Asfaloth a great deal for saving me at the end. Mae Mae, I need to be told how to do this better. Today I was a failure.”

“Child is still alive. Did not run away. Not a failure.” Maedhros kissed Gildor. “You have a whole household of fathers who are ready to give advice. Please listen to all of them except for Fingon.” Maedhros kissed Gildor again. “Erestor is hosting an outdoor late night swimming party, only he does not know it yet. Might you wish to accompany me?”

“I would not be in the way?” Gildor tilted his head. “I mean...you know what I mean. I do not want you to feel inhibited because I am there. I…” he sighed. “Gildor is still tired and is babbling and yes I wish to accompany you.”

“If we find Finya out there, I doubt she is going to want to engage in underwater acrobatics. If we find Fingon out there, unsure, but likely not going to be jumping into those sorts of activities after everything that happened tonight. So, no, I do not think you will be in the way.”

Gildor sighed, deflated, bestowing a kiss of his own. “I meant Erestor and...I am going to hush now and go find a towel. May I bring you anything or do anything to help?”

“Oh...and here, I thought you meant my honeymoon. Erestor...ah...I do not think we are at that juncture quite yet. Or, maybe we are, and I am the only one not seeing it.”

“One way to find out,” suggested Glorfindel. “The water is always warm out in the pool.”

“I only meant if you wanted to cuddle with him or…” Gildor turned pink. “I need something to shut me up and for once I do not mean  _ that _ . Towel. Outside. Towel. La la la la la la towel la la la la towel meet you out there Mae Mae la la la la….” he walked out of the kitchen with his fingers in his ears.

“Is he alright?” Glorfindel asked, concerned.

“I think so?” Maedhros answered, nonplussed. 

“You go on,” Glorfindel suggested. “I will find him. I think I...I shall manage this.”

“I can follow directions?” Maedhros said uncertainly, and headed for the pool.

He found Erestor there, alone. “Is it just you out here?” he asked as he approached. “I think Gildor and Glorfindel will be joining us.”

“Just me and the oysters. They are not very good at conversing, though,” Erestor answered quietly.

“Try me.” Maedhros stripped off his clothing, leaving it in a heap on the hammock. He almost took a running leap into the water, thought better of it, and slid down into the soothing warmth with a groan. “Oh, sometimes I forget I am old.” He extended his arms behind his back and several cracks could be heard. “That was a lot of fun tonight. I have a feeling we will be asked for a demonstration by some of the members of the household, but I might need to give it a day or two until I recover. How are you feeling?”

For a moment, Erestor did not answer, then took the first steps on the long road of commitment to another person. “The truth is, I am in a lot of pain but I do not want to be a bother and I did not want to say this but I promised you loyalty. Part of that is honesty. Honesty can often be very hard for me. I am used to hiding myself away. There does not always need to be a reason. I had fun too. I might need the two days’ recovery as well unless someone can show me how to aid myself. I was old in Beleriand. Now I do not know what I am. Do not find a word, thanks so much,” he laughed softly.

“Well, I will not share the word, then, even though I know it because we tease my father with it. I can offer, however, one of the best massages in all of Valinor. Considering I perfected my technique with just one hand and an elbow, imagine what I can do now with two.” He wiggled his fingers as an attempt to tempt Erestor.

“You already have me. How do you want me?” Not even a tiny attempt was made at coquetry; he hurt too much. Leaning back, Erestor floated nearer, assuming that proximity had to occur. A few strands of inky hair escaped the haphazardly coiled braid atop his head that rested as a crown; skewers poked here and there kept it in place.

There was no doubt as to Maedhros’ talent. His fingers dug into all the right places, loosening tense, overworked muscles with the aid of the warm water. Touches began in a careful manner, but bordered on sensual as he worked his way from Erestor’s shoulders to his hips and buttocks. When he reached Erestor’s thighs, he pulled him closer, and one hand boldly pulled the braid from its restraints. “You need to relax everything, even this glorious hair of yours.” Maedhros nuzzled at the braid. “May I unwind this? I love seeing your hair free-flowing.”

“I am yours,” Erestor repeated, electrified. His body had relaxed save for almost painfully aroused genitals; anticipatory but pliant to whatever Maedhros wished. In some past efforts at romance he had pursued, but here the stunning beauty could not initiate out of shyness and a fear of transgressing unknown boundaries.There was nothing short of actual coupling he would refuse; this strange and blessed acceptance of someone familiar but unknown was unfathomable just as he felt certain it was approved.

It took a minute, but soon the dark hair was lifted and fell in waves over Erestor’s shoulders and down his back, the ends floating on top of the water. Maedhros ran his fingers through and brought it to his nose, breathing in the scent that was unmistakably Erestor. “You are absolutely gorgeous,” whispered Maedhros. “Gildor has long accused me of having a preference for darker hair, and, maybe he is just a little bit right.” Maedhros kissed one of the tendrils and then let go so that he could resume taking some of the tension from Erestor’s body. “You know, whatever category you are in, I must be there, too, so I think we are in good company.”

“I am in a category?” Ererstor asked, glancing backward to see the starlit red hair clinging to the tall frame that still stood above him even in the water. 

“Age, my dear,” reminded Maedhros.

Erestor bit his lip. “Do you ever look at yourself? Yours is a rare beauty. A showpiece…precious.” Quickly he pressed a fleeting kiss on Maedhros’ arm when he turned away.

“Not to sound conceited, but you do know what my name means, right?” asked Maedhros with a chuckle. “I know how handsome I am--everyone who says my name is literally reaffirming it for me. You, my dear, I feel, need reminding. And I am very fortunate--and blessed--to be among those with your trust to see you fully.” In case there was a doubt as to what Maedhros was referring to, he once again lifted the mass of dark hair and let it cascade down again, and he played with the swirls of inky hair that skimmed the surface, half submerged.

Erestor’s long lashes swept down; he turned a second time. “Will you give me a language lesson,  _ Maedh ross _ Fëanorion?” Both of Erestor’s hands braced themselves lightly on his lover’s arms in lieu of the abandoned perch below. “Impudent! But now I understand; you like that I am unveiled for you. For my lovers,” he lingered over the last word. “Enjoy my hair all you wish.” Elegantly he pirouetted halfway around again, finding his foothold and admiring the starry sky.

There was light laughter behind Erestor, and then lips gently pressing against the back of his head, the nape of his neck, down his back to where the water kissed his skin. Always, Maedhros made it a point to nuzzle the dark hair, and to breathe in the fragrance of his new love. He worked back up, and as he kissed behind Erestor’s ear, he paused to make a request. “Say that you want me. Because I want you.”

The long neck stretched back. “I am aching for you. I have been since your first touch. Trying to control myself, not pressure you in any way...I want you...please?”

In an instant, Maedhros had Erestor turned around in his arms. Lips descended and locked with Erestor’s; he encouraged Erestor to lock his legs around his waist by pulling them up on his way to grabbing hold of the firm ass he had been massaging earlier. “The things I want to do with you,” growled Maedhros between kisses. “I have so many beautifully impure thoughts in my head, and I plan to have you beg me for each and every one of them.”

“Why me?” the dark beauty asked when he could speak anything at all. “And what?” His hands and arms did what he felt was disallowed earlier; feel the shoulders, back, neck, throat, all the features of the body that held him. Tall like Fingon but with greater substance; not necessarily more powerful but with a heavier frame and he could not get enough of being touched and kissed. His discomfort and weariness melted away.

“You want all of the reasons?” Maedhros did not stop kissing Erestor, but he did slow down to give himself the chance to give answers. “You have long intrigued me. There are few I know with whom I can have absolutely astounding conversations--and what better time than in the aftermath of love, in each other’s arms, to share meandering philosophical and philological thoughts? You can be shy in one moment, but I know there is a ferocious panther inside of you, and this lion wants the opportunity to wrestle and play and love that beast within. You are formal, and proper, and serious, but the minute I tie you to the bedposts, that is all going to dissolve away, and I love that thought. Mmmm...you ask what... too much to mention. My mind is...creative.” He turned them so that the hammock was in Erestor’s view. “I want to take that down from the trees and use the ropes that have it suspended on you. Wrists… ankles… I want to watch you sway there… maybe give you a few spankings, if you are good… and then… well, that depends on how far we want to go, mmm? Maybe just grind against you the first time, and eventually...we see where things lead.”

Lips parted, Erestor appeared genuinely surprised at the answer; it was hard to see in the starlight that his face had colored more. Definitely his breathing came faster and now he trembled a little with desire. So many potential responses raced through his mind, so he settled on the best one he could think of in an attempt to regain some control. Saucily, the dark head tilted. “Make me.”

For a moment, Maedhros continued to kiss Erestor and knead his flesh. Without warning, he suddenly grabbed both of Erestor’s wrists and with a little welcomed resistance, maneuvered them behind his back. “Is that a challenge?” he growled.

“Oh, hey, guys. How is the water tonight?” It was Fingon, strolling across the lawn. Finya was nowhere to be found. Fingon had obviously found somewhere else to wash. The cosmetics from the evening were gone, though he had reapplied his customary dark liner around his eyes. It seemed more prominent, or perhaps it was just the light. In any case, both Erestor and Maedhros scrambled to appear slightly less entangled as Fingon came up to the edge of the water. He was wearing a very loose shirt and very tight trousers. “What is going on with the two of you?” One of the finely trimmed brows, the only hint of something beyond Fingon being around, arched up in a ‘I think I know what was going on, but maybe you tell me what is going on’ way.

“Shameless seduction-type teasing and bondage sort-of-smartass daring following some general grabbing and kissing, husband,” Erestor confessed honestly. “If I am sanctioned for that, I must mention that before we arrived at this there was a chaste massage that is probably the only reason I can move now.”

“Mmm...he gives the best massages,” Fingon said. “Teasing I can understand, and grabbing and kissing…but underwater bondage? Maitimo, even you cannot be that irresponsible,” he lightly scolded. 

“No, I was going to do unsanctioned things with the hammock,” said Maedhros, cheeks nearly matching his hair. He went on to explain his plans as Fingon went to the trees and surveyed them as if he was an engineer judging the structural integrity. 

“I see,” he finally said when Maedhros finished. “You are going to need more rope for that. This hammock is longer than Erestor is--unless you were planning to inject an element of torture to your idea.”

“Just the usual spanking.”

Fingon laughed. “The usual spanking,” he repeated. “Keep that in mind, Erestor--this one has a hard time restraining himself when it comes to whips, paddles, or even his hand.”

“Is that supposed to be some kind of deterrent?” Erestor grinned, invoking a baritone timbred vision of possibilities. “I mean, as long as Turgon is nowhere near. That is my only request.”

“Seconded,” Fingon declared. He looked slightly uncomfortable at the idea of his brother being near.

“That tall mother-fucker can go take his prude ass elsewhere if he shows up,” Maedhros said. “No offense meant, dear,” he called up to Fingon.

“Meh.” Fingon was inspecting the hammock again. “You need more rope to make this work. I will be right back.” He jogged out to the shed.

“I just meant...oh never mind,” Erestor muttered airily but with distraction. “You are feeling rather serious about this, I see. I did not realize that you were going to enlist help. Are you going to hit me? I should find in the right frame of mind for this, it would seem…”

Some discomfort crossed Maedhros’ face. “I...no, I am not going to hit you. Spankings should be...enjoyable. Playful. Erotic. I would never ‘hit’ you.” Maedhros was shaking his head as he spoke. “I would never do that.”

Erestor froze. “I am sorry,” he looked down. “I have made you uncomfortable; I apologize. That was not a good choice of words; please pardon me. I...will not say that again.”

“I just want to make sure I do not make any mistakes. I do not want to hurt you. Having done that to someone, not knowing that...just because someone does not say no, does not mean they are saying yes...consent is very important to me now, and I want to be respectful of you.” Maedhros kissed Erestor’s forehead. “I love you.”

“I am very different than Fingon and probably Gildor too. Thank you for explaining that. I have much more to tell you but maybe it should wait for when we know each other better. I do not want to inflict all of Erestor on you on day one.” His arms wrapped around Maedhros and hugged him close. “I love you also, Maedhros.”

“Found it!” The triumphant shout came from Fingon, who ran back with the extra clothesline from the shed. He dropped it onto the hammock, and kept running in the other direction without explanation.

Maedhros and Erestor both watched him run. “He is up to something,” Maedhros insisted.

The question was answered when Fingon came back again, holding the riding crop from earlier. “I remembered that I saw this in the carriage. I thought you might want it.” He held it out for Maedhros, who grabbed for it twice, with Fingon moving it just out of his grasp both times.

“Are you trying to earn yourself a spanking?” he inquired.

“No. No one gets to spank the King, anyhow.” Fingon held the crop out so that Maedhros could take hold of it. “Speaking of, His Majesty expects a good show.” Fingon walked regally to one of the mushroom stools, and sat down on his ‘throne’.

Erestor stared at Fingon, then at Maedhros, shrugged, booped him on the nose and waggled a finger in the air. “Oh, where were we now...oh, yes.” Without warning he grabbed Maedhros’ face and extracted an extremely dominant kiss. Once satisfied, a smirking scholar grinned and noted nonchalantly, “I believe we left off at, you were going to try to make me do an assortment of promised pretty poses?”

“Try to make you? Heh. You have no idea,” rumbled the deep voice from the red-head. “Here. Hold this,” he instructed, and he sneaked the crop between Erestor’s teeth, and had his wrists held fast once again. “I am not going to try to make you do anything. You are going to grovel and beg me for everything you get--and deserve--tonight. Now, do you want to stay in here alone, or do you want to come over to those trees with me?” Maedhros managed to barely get both of Erestor’s wrists with one of his hands, but it was just enough so that he could retrieve the riding crop with his other hand.

Erestor’s face fell, his demeanor transforming in a twinkle of Varda’s star. “Alone?” The question crossed the air between them troubled and hesitant. “Go with you,” Erestor conceded, strangely passive in contrast to his bravado of a moment ago, though he tested the strength of Maedhros’ hold to verify his restraint.

“Good answer.” Maedhros bowed down to kiss Erestor’s lips, his cheek, and then to ask him softly, “How much do you want me to insist? Is this what you like, or do you want me to tell you that you have to call me master? I am not sure how much of that tonight was desired or just part of the roleplay there for the competition.”

“That is your choice,” Erestor replied, nuzzling at his temple. “If you enjoyed being a Master, I enjoyed being mastered by you but you need not do that only for my sake though you seemed quite exultant. I already admitted to you that I was not acting.” The speech was delivered so that lips and flicks of his tongue teased and edged the ear near enough to listen.

“Then your Master I shall be,” came the low growl. He let go of Erestor’s wrists and used the crop to give Eresor a smack on the rear. The water slowed the strike considerably, so it was more of a tap, with a promise of more to come. “From now on, you will address me properly as your Master when you answer me. Now, where do you wish to go?”

“Wherever you direct me to, Master, but may I please stay near you ?”

“Of course. A servant is never far from his Master.” Maedhros easily lifted Erestor up from the water, then climbed ashore himself. “Towels,” he said to Erestor. “Unless, of course, you prefer to allow the cold air to dry you.”

Hurriedly Erestor retrieved the towels and offered them. “Please Master, I do not like to be left cold and wet.” A quaver moved a voice that had gone small and quiet. The dark brows knitted, uncomprehending of the bizarre emotions he felt making inroads.

The towels were large, and Maedhros was able to wrap them both up in one. He held the towel from dropping to the ground with one hand and placed his other on Erestor’s cheek. After a few kisses, he directed, “Then I would suggest you dry off your Master efficiently so that you can be cold and wet for as little time as possible.”

“Yes, Master.” Erestor’s voice had regained strength and at once he complied. “I am not alone; you share your warmth with me. You are very generous to your servant.” He did his best to wrangle the copper mane; squeezing out all the water he could after seeing to the long limbs. When confronted with genitals, definitely swelling but nowhere near full arousal, he blotted the substantial organs in a careful manner not meant to stimulate. Chest, back, tops of feet, balancing some of the time by holding onto his body… “Shall I wrap your hair, Master?”

Maedhros shook his head and slid the towel away from Erestor. Without words, he began to rub down Erestor with the towel. His hands were far more familiar, and he kept eye contact the entire time, sometimes towering over Erestor, and sometimes, looking up at him while he was crouched down. He lingered in some spots--the back of Erestor’s neck, his groin, and especially his nipples, which Maedhros was now on his third pass at making sure were dry. Fingon was nearby, watching, smirking, and working to untie the hammock from the trees.

The unceasing focus of the studious grey eyes bored holes through Erestor’s infamous wit and cockiness, undermining his defenses surely as sappers tunneling beneath fortress walls – setting their devices in preparation for a final assault. Already he felt a trembling mess inside, unable to care that his erection more than betrayed his state of mind. Perhaps he could keep Maedhros in some state of uncertainty? Erestor still could deal out the unexpected, and these euphoric waves bore him to greater crests than the sad obfuscations of drugs. This was another heart and mind and a romantic challenge. A little battle of wills, and what was more fun than those?

A droplet of water fell from the damp ends of the dark hair and ran a rivulet down Erestor’s shoulder. Maedhros bowed his head and used his tongue to trace the path back up along Erestor’s skin. “Cupcake for dessert,” he quipped with a grin. His expression firmed up again and he said, “I think you might like to go stand by that tree,” he said, and motioned to the side that Fingon had detached the hammock from. The other side was still being dealt with.

Erestor’s dark eyes looked from Maedhros, to the tree. To Maedhros, to the tree, Maedhros, the tree. Even these subtle movements of face were executed in a manner suggestive of dance. Performance. His expression sultry, sulky, he moved ever so slowly, taking two definite steps then stopping. While keeping his body aimed forward to the extent his protesting muscles would allow, he turned only his head, placing his chin on his own shoulder and stared more at Maedhros, then the tree, then Maedhros. Two slow blinks. Then a few more paces, his hips swaying from side to side with inviting abandon while his long mane flowed free. Another pause, legs apart. Bending down, both hands rubbed at his left knee while a toss of his head flung the damp inky hair over his shoulder and limpid eyes watched Maedhros again before straightening. The final paces left him leaning against the tree; suddenly fascinated with his damp hair after one last insouciant backward glance. 

Maedhros slung the towel around his shoulders, held onto the ends, and sauntered over, taking his time. A ‘fwop’ was heard as the hammock hit the ground. Fingon looked up and gave a complimentary whistle as he dragged the hammock off so that it was not in the way. When Maedhros reached the tree, he flicked his wrists so that the towel swung over Erestor’s head and was used to yank Erestor up against Maedhros. Spreading his legs so that he could better align their bodies, Maedhros rubbed suggestively against Erestor while kissing him several times.

Failed attempts to remain quiet shifted to pleasured groans. Erestor melted into the attention, aware with skin on skin against his nipples of his ignorance for reciprocation of these delights. His erogenous zone was apparently known to Maedhros, but was there something the redhead particularly liked besides rough fucking or playing as he was doing now? A manner in which he liked to be touched in particular? That was a giant…surely a little cheating was permitted?  _ Fingon? Love, a little help here? What does he especially like? Like you have your ears, does he have...something? _

_ You already know the answer to the riddle. What is he obsessed with? _ Fingon circled around so that he could make some sort of eye-contact with Erestor. Voices in his head were still very strange if they were not his own and he could not see the person.

_ I...dominance? He is very loving, very intense, very desirous of playing a possessive role but that does not tell me what...it is such an irony, love. When I am too close it becomes hard for me to see. _

_ It is easier than you think. In fact, try not to overthink it. He is...a very stereotypical Noldo when you think of it. He likes shiny things, reads more languages than he has fingers, and if you are looking for what he likes to have touched, it is literally in front of you. He played his hand when you were in the water, cupcake. _

Erestor squeezed his eyes shut, sliding his hands up to knot in the thick hair. Practically standing  _ en pointe _ allowed molding closer against the much heavier body and he swallowed hard. “That you would want me in this way is something out of a dream for me, a fantasy for fanciful wishes in a window seat overlooking an idyllic view. That I stand here and envision us from a place high above in the sky; you the sculpted beauty overshadowing me, sheltering my body. Able to do anything you desire to me beneath the stars while I wait in hope, wondering if you will tease me until I my need drives me half-mad or satisfy my lust for you...what vagaries of Fate brought us to this place and time? I see two sparks of joy, two lights shining the same as jewels in the heavens overhead and I almost cannot contain the expectancy I endure in this moment. The energy I feel with you. Not only that I want you but the certainty that I love you and the endless scenes I envision of us together. So many embers of thought waiting to catch fire, I feel the world cannot contain them.” He pulled on the hair while he extemporized, though not too hard; his ideas seemed to run away all of their own accord.

Maedhros softly groaned his way through Erestor’s speech. When Erestor pulled, however, Maedhros grabbed him by the wrists. “Just...just touch...no pull.” Now he was the one to beg, and he released Erestor’s hands. “Really...really like...Fin tell you?” Maedhros glanced half over his shoulder at Fingon, who stood with his arms crossed and gave an innocent shrug.

Erestor turned, seeking to embrace him more. “I will speak all you wish me to, Master. Is that not what servants are for? Yours only wants to please you but is uncertain how; whether if by bold touches, special gifts or pleasing sights. If it is only Erestor’s words that you desire to hear he will do his best to offer them. Though, he fears there are too many in praise of your great beauty and noble spirit, and were he to find them all the sun would both rise and set tomorrow before even a worthy beginning could be made.” Soft kisses were pressed against the pale chest, since that was what he could easily reach.

One hand lifted and was used to pet Erestor’s head. After several strokes, Maedhros enfolded Erestor into his arms, breaking the division between master and servant. His arms were protective; his cheek rested gently on the top of Erestor’s hair. “Not going to tie you up tonight,” he murmured. “Just want to hold you.”

_ Touch, _ came Fingon’s voice in Erestor’s head.  _ He spent all that time all alone when he was captured. The rough stone rubbed his skin raw. The sun burned him. The snow froze him. The bats bit at him. He craves touch, and he especially likes to have his hair touched and brushed, braided and played with. When I found him, there was barely anything left. They took it from him, nearly scalped him as a trophy, and in the years he was left there, he was malnourished. What grew was thin and dull, and fell out due to stress. Touch him, gently, and touch his hair. And keep doing exactly what you are doing, speaking to him. You might not realize it, but you are making love to him with your words. _

“Please Master, would you wrap us in a blanket or towel? I would like that so much.” Erestor wrapped his arms around Maedhros’ neck lightly, reaching up. “When others would harm me, leave me alone tied in a chair after having thrown cold water on me, I would go out of my head not to be there. To be held by you, safe, wrapped up where I cannot feel the cold air and there is only the heat of your body and the strength of your arms, that is a kind of paradise for me. It chases away every difficult thing there ever was and I know I am safe now. Safe with your love. I love you, Maedhros.” The fine fingers reached a little higher, massaging the warm neck.

There was a brief pause, but then Maedhros easily picked up Erestor in his arms. “Fingon. Doors, please?”

“Absolutely.” Fingon grabbed up what he could find of the clothing lying on the ground and then bounded towards the cottage.

“Bedroom? Rooftop? Or somewhere else?” asked Maedhros as he looked down upon Erestor, cradling him with immense care.

“Please somewhere warm? Somewhere we can be warm. Somewhere we can snuggle? If that is what you also want…” he trailed off, a little lost. The emotions had shifted suddenly for both of them but he did not want to be the one to break the spell woven about them. 

“Bedroom. The big one.” Maedhros drew Erestor closer, and every few steps would kiss his brow or nuzzle his hair. “No veil when we are alone. Please? I know it is important to you, and it might be inappropriate for me to ask, but I want to see you. All of you.”

Erestor shook his head. “I wear the veil because...the easiest way to explain is that I am for you to whom I belong. Not for others; those outside of this house. It is my way of declaring that I am for you here alone; that I view the marriage relationships and intimate connections to you four here as sanctified. Not casual. When you became a member of this household and especially when you married Fingon you gained that right to me. Even more so now. There is a bit more, such as being unveiled in front of certain extended family I can tell you later. I hope that helps you understand?”

Maedhros made it to the top of the first set of stairs before he paused and nodded. “I do not always understand all of these customs. I appreciate the knowledge, and even more, that you have this trust in me.” He continued on to the next set of stairs.

“How could I not trust you?” Erestor murmured half to Maedhros, half to no one. “The whole of my life is bound up with you. Everyone I have ever truly loved has a connection to you. And then there is just...you. You are so right it frightens me. I worry I will wake up and find out this has not been happening, because I so much want it to be.”

“If this is just a dream, I never want to awaken from it.” Now at the top of the steps, Maedhros waited for Fingon to open the door to the bedroom. Fingon stood to the side, and looked about to close the door when Maedhros called out to him, “I think I speak for us both when I ask if you would consider staying. In fact--”

“Yes, I...I picked up on those thoughts. Right between the creative hammock thoughts and the worry you had that you might hit Erestor’s head on the side of the doorway,” said Fingon.

“Not that. That was just...fleeting thought, and--”

“Oh, so you do not want that?”

Maedhros lowered Erestor onto the bed before he sat down on the edge to study Fingon. “I think it would more be a question if you were ready for that.”

Fingon shifted from one foot to the other. Meanwhile, Maedhros pulled not one but two quilts up over Erestor, not quite tucking him in, but making sure the covers were comfortable. Then he joined Erestor and looked back over at Fingon. Fingon stretched his arms and studied the room. “I have to make sure I light the candle before I fall asleep. And the wax--better not put it under a pillow right now.”

Maedhros sat up. “Wait, are you--are you agreeing to--”

“In a word, I am very horny,” admitted Fingon. “I guess that was two words.”

Maedhros lifted up the edge of the quilt and beckoned him to join them.

“This is your honeymoon, my loves. What can I do?” Erestor offered. “I am happy to help. Would anyone like to be prepared so that you only have to enjoy passionate kissing and can move straight on to pure physical delights? I would love to repay some of the generosity that has just been lavished on me, if I may. I am at your service.”

“Darling, I think I am about to be at your service,” corrected Fingon as Maedhros rolled over, his back to Fingon as he faced Erestor.

Maedhros ran his fingers through Erestor’s hair. “It would be inappropriate for you and I to join our bodies tonight. We are both very drawn to one another, but when I woke up this morning I never thought this a possibility.”

Fingon, who had wiggled out of his clothes and tossed them off to the end of the bed, now crawled somewhat on top of Maedhros, peering over his shoulder while looking over at Erestor. “And that is where I come in.”

“Only if you are absolutely sure,” came Maedhros’ warning to Fingon. “I do not want you doing this because...for no other reason than your desire for it, Fingon.”

“Maedhros!” Erestor rebuked. “You need to trust him! He is not who he used to be any more than you are who you used to be. I know you both worry about each other because you have this past with deep roots. But he has a past here, too. One that did not include you, and in that time he has found himself. Give him the space to have that ownership of his sexuality. Please? We all need to learn what is new. I will be learning much from you – I expect to and pray I will do so humbly.” Taking his hand, he brought it to his lips, kissing the open palm repeatedly. “That aside, I cannot think of anything more breathtakingly erotic than our husband having both of us and I am so hard I could burst just thinking about it. I agree that I should not surrender to you tonight, but what strength I will have for the following days is beyond me. I am already lost to you; well I know it.”

Fingon stretched an arm well over Maedhros to tap Erestor on the nose. “Thank you for being my knight.” He nuzzled Maedhros. “Perhaps his idea is better,” he half-teased to Maedhros.

With cheeks burning, Maedhros whispered, “The thought was, uhm, have him...basically...between us. At the same time. I...I know he--you, I know you,” said Maedhros as he turned to Fingon to address him. “I know you have been exploring a lot of things about your sexuality, obviously, I have been here for some important parts of it. This, though…”

“Well. It is our honeymoon, and you did so beautifully submit to me the first night, so...suppose we just see where things lead tonight,” Fingon suggested.

Erestor moaned. Gently, he gathered, Maedhros’ hair together, petting and smoothing it back, finger-combing it, ignoring his pulsing arousal. “Kiss him,” he demanded of Fingon rather breathlessly.

Fingon crawled back down onto the bed from his semi-perch upon Maedhros, closed his eyes and kissed between Maedhros’ shoulder blades. He worked his way down, small slow kisses, until he was just above his husband’s buttocks. Fingon kissed his way back up again, but continued up from neck to cheek. “I missed this, love. Being this close to you, and having you near. I am blessed. All of us are.”

Erestor made himself comfortable and based on what Fingon had told him earlier, massaged Maedhros’ scalp, neck, upper back, rubbed his skin and did whatever seemed right that would be soothing and enjoyable to his body or hair. As badly as he wanted sexual attention for himself, this was his first chance to peruse the length of this exquisite form unhindered by clothing, water or lack of light and there were quite a number of new discoveries adding to his private list – everything kissing, nibbling and sniffing could find, much to Fingon’s amusement (earning the owner of those golden eyes an occasional light swat of retribution).

Maedhros turned his head and managed to graze his lips over Fingon’s. “Funny, how we both had long-ago crushed on this man, and now, here he is,” Maedhros said with a slight toss of his head in Erestor’s direction.

“It probably helped that we had some inkling of him being like us,” replied Fingon. “When we found the love letters and poems you had written to Uncle Fëanor all those years ago, we would sneak into the attic where he had them squirrelled away and read them to each other.”

“And then we would nearly get caught doing naughty things in the house,” recalled Maedhros fondly.

“Nearly get caught? I seem to recall some blackmail incidents with your brothers, not to mention that time when your mother--”

“Oh, that was the worst!” Maedhros rolled back over and looked at Erestor. “I do not know what your thoughts are on locking mechanisms, but what I have learned is, always keep a second key close at hand.”

“You read my letters?” Erestor asked, suddenly going blotchy and reeling backwards, sitting on his ass. His knees tucked up, and he turned slightly aside, stunned. Yes, he wrote them, of course he did. Had he really been so stupid as to leave them after Fëanor cast him out of the house, knowing where they were being kept?  _ Well, obviously. _ Genius. It did not matter. So why did he feel almost sick to his stomach?

“We did not have confirmation it was you until later,” said Fingon. “They were sweet.” He crawled around to be on the other side of Erestor. “You are sweet.” He nuzzled Erestor’s neck.

“We did not mean it to be an invasion of privacy,” added Maedhros. “If anything, you might say they were inspirational.”

“It feels so...I am being foolish...was not prepared to hear…” Erestor reached for Fingon. “This caught me really off guard but as there is nothing I can do...I think I just need a moment. It is that feeling when you did not mean for others to know something about you but find your deepest feelings and thoughts flew the coop. If they did something for you I suppose I should feel glad, for here we are now.”

“I have them,” said Maedhros. “At my house. After rebirth, some time after, Fingon and I were discussing them, and we--”

“Liberated them,” said Fingon hurriedly.

“--stole them from my family’s estate. I kept them safe...I was not sure if they would still be there, but I worried someone else would find them, or, destroy them, and they were such beautiful words.”

The response was immediate, and with surprising strength Erestor dragged both of them into a fierce hug, locking his arms around each of their necks. His eyes squeezed closed, an intense moment of emotion passed over him for what they had done;  _ kept them safe _ . So easily he could have let himself break down in tears but that was not what he wanted for this moment. “I thank you both. That means a great deal to me.”

After spending half a minute in a group embrace, Maedhros asked, “On the subject of things that lock, then…”

Fingon swatted Maedhros’ shoulder. “We are having a moment,” he scolded.

Erestor smiled. “I interrupted, for which I am sorry. Thank you, sweetie, for making allowance for the aged.” He bestowed a fairly worthy kiss on Fingon before returning his attention to Maedhros. “Now. Things that lock. Are we discussing pin tumbler locks, warded locks, lever locks, wafer tumbler locks or disc tumbler locks, and how many keys do we need? Oh, and am I allowed to used picks?” Erestor leaned his chin on folded hands and batted his eyes prettily at Maedhros.

“Oh, honey, I would be a failure if you had a way to pick any of the locks,” said Maedhros. Fingon decided this conversation was best conducted without him, so he burrowed down into the blankets to watch and listen. “A simple yes or no master would suffice.”

Erestor frowned. “Master, you did not ask a yes or no question, you made a statement. But if you wish me to choose then I shall say yes, Master.”

Maedhros gave his own frown, and then looked down at Fingon. “Were you ever this sassy? I cannot remember…”

“I was never really engaged in the whole master and servant thing, so if I was, it was probably unintentional,” replied Fingon. “Also, you are really rusty. I take it this is not a game you and Gildor play often.”

“Rusty? Rude,” mumbled Maedhros. He chose to use his hands in a more enjoyable manner, one on Erestor’s thigh and the other now rubbing his back. “Not very much. He prefers my dominance in other ways.”

Erestor wanted to touch Maedhros but in his nervousness did not know if it would in some way be unwelcome. There Fingon was, though, so he found bare skin to caress and indulged himself, tracing small light circles to stay connected with him. Their banter amused him greatly, so he continued to listen.

“Mmm, right, I almost forgot about the ‘Daddy’ thing,” said Fingon. “So, does your father know about that?”

Maedhros laugh-snorted. “No.” He sounded like an impish youth.

“I can imagine Gildor letting it slip in front of Felagund, though.”

“Of course,” Maedhros said.

“Oh! Oh.” Fingon sat up. “He was there. Felagund. Did you see him? At the Peacock tonight.”

“What?” Erestor managed. “Early, you mean, right?”

“Uh...no. Near the end.” Fingon began to blush. “I would not have known he was there, but he saw my uncertainty at that monster harp and sneaked backstage to guide me. He was...he had his wife, and uh...Edrahil with him. With him with him.” Fingon cleared his throat. “Also Angrod and Eldalótë,” he rushed.

“And you are just telling us NOW?!” burst out Maedhros.

“There was a lot going on! And I honestly panicked right after I finished playing,” admitted Fingon.

Erestor looked from Fingon to Maedhros to Fingon again. “Darling, this is your honeymoon, but if I am to go to sleep tonight having to know that, for pity’s sake the least you can do is give me a decent fucking.”

“Just a decent fucking? I think I probably owe you an amazing fucking. Again, sorry, I really meant to say something,” said Fingon.

Maedhros motioned with his hand. “So Felagund is not hiding it anymore?”

“Not hiding...wait, did you know about this?” questioned Fingon.

“Of course. He is my father-in-law and he lives three houses away from us.” Maedhros rubbed his nose. “Not entirely officially, though. When we helped them find a house on the outskirts of Tirion and they moved onto the same street, Gildor and I noticed that Edrahil stopped by a lot. Right before we came on holiday, he was there all the time, in a living with them sort of way. Oh, and we went for a late walk the night before we left and caught a glimpse of all three of them fooling around up in their bedroom. They talked briefly with Gildor, but we are both convinced there is more to know than what he was told.”

“So they are experiencing something of their own, is what you are saying,” Erestor concluded. “I hope we can all talk more at some point. They certainly have my unconditional support.”

“About time, really. It was getting difficult to go over for dinner and watch the three of them looking longingly at each other when we sat in the parlor for drinks. I think it was long-time longing that was finally acted upon. I wonder if it had anything to do with the school…” Maedhros shrugged. “I have a lot of questions for Felagund when we next see him.”

“Screw waiting, Master” Erestor said flatly. “Dinner invitation, and if you want to save their lives help me not have to cook much of it. I mean, I know I have made progress and I am proud of that. I just still feel much more confident surrounded by capable people who have full sensory ability for support. I might also like being spanked with utensils too,” he purred suggestively.

“You might? If you are unsure, we will have to go through all of them. Spoons...spatulas...spreaders...meat tenderizer…” Maedhros drawled his way through each implement.

“You should have been here when they were making penis-shaped food. You and Gildor would have enjoyed that,” remarked Fingon.

“Technically you made penis shaped food too,” Erestor reminded him. “I am not going to let you forget the sausage and eggs you cooked for Fin. That was quite an artistic presentation, if I may say.”

“You started it,” said Fingon quickly as he blushed.

Maedhros kissed the top of Fingon’s head. “No worries, sweetness. Experiments in kitchen utensil bondage will be optional in this household.”

“I never said I would not participate in that,” answered Fingon just as quickly.

“Look what you are doing,” Erestor whined, glancing down at his rather responsive crotch. “No fair teasing when I know you would just swat me away and give me a lecture about kitchen cleanliness!”

“He can lecture all he wants, but I already know from long years spent with Fingon that the best deterrent to being swatted or chased away is to securely tie him down. I bet that table in the kitchen would do nicely.”

“You have no idea,” Fingon reminisced.

“Hnnnnnnnhhhh!!” Erestor moaned and gently head-butted Maedhros, desperate but uncertain how to plead with these two. That he was outnumbered, out-experienced and out of his depth was so obvious. That these two seemed absolutely content to banter, and that it was some odd foreplay between them to gossip about family matters, was ridiculous. Then again, there was always taking matters in hand so that going the distance might be manageable...reaching down, he did just that and immediately felt some gratification at his own touch.

Maedhros was going to further question Fingon, but his attention was drawn to Erestor. “Darling, if you need a hand, all you had to do was ask. Would you like me to touch you?” He nuzzled at Erestor’s ear and whispered, “Forgive me for being so...sedate? I do not wish to assume your consent to anything without your permission.”

A trembling hand brushed along the pale cheek. “Please? I need to be touched and I want that from both of you. You have my consent, Maedhros, for everything. I do not know how to be plainer.”

The covers were flipped away from them and Maedhros coaxed Erestor to kneel on the bed. Maedhros positioned himself behind Erestor with his legs stretched out so that Erestor was snug, back to Maedhros’ chest, Maedhros chin gently resting on the crown of Erestor’s head. “Where is--thank you,” he said as Fingon slapped a jar into his hand. The lid was removed and Maedhros scooped some of the oily balm with two fingers. With one hand, he coated Erestor’s proud erection; with the other, he lifted one of Erestor’s arms and then the other and guided his hands to play with the long red tresses. Fingon was up from the bed, lighting enough candles so that the lamps could be extinguished, choosing particularly scented selections so that there was a depth of aroma from ginger, sandalwood, and patchouli mingled with citrus notes and vanilla to tame down the exotic.

“Oh, so good!” Erestor arched his still sore muscles against the broad chest, turning to breathe in the scent of this new lover. The room had transformed so quickly and the hands on his body were what he had yearned for the entire day. “I love you,” he breathed. “Maedhros and Master. It is all the same to me. Thank you for this. It is not every day that a vermillion sunset holds onto me and tongues of flame surround my body, and one kind of heat gives way to another.” On the heels of his words a thin stream of warm air from his lips chased up the edges of Maedhros’ ear.

Being the most flexible of the three, Fingon joined them at last. He sat so that his not quite hard member was between Erestor’s knees and wrapped his legs around them both. It allowed him to pull them all tighter together. Then Fingon held on to Maedhros while he bowed his head to flick his tongue over each of Erestor’s pebbled nipples in turn.

“I love you too, my dearest husband,” Erestor panted, reaching for Fingon. “You have given me everything, saved me, and when I see you there is endless beauty. Today was such a gift to me; to see so much of you. So much that is exquisite. Finya is here, and the poems I will write to her...but then there are other sides of you, just as desirable, like this pose you hold now. This body, so lithe and with so much strength…” His own words caused him to push his erection into Maedhros’ hand, seeking stimulation as his mind took flight.

There was a low chuckle as Fingon looked up. “She is...not really here right now.” While the tips of his fingers and the shape of his brows might have spoken otherwise, his lips moved up to Erestor’s throat. His teeth grazed over skin with a thin veil of sweat, and he marked Erestor’s neck in more than one place before he leaned back to admire his work and canvas with appreciation.

Maedhros retrieved a little more lubricant and set to stroking Erestor slowly--enough to excite, not enough to gain release. “Then who is here with us?” Maedhros asked.

“Not...sure,” Fingon admitted. “My mind is trying to grasp the idea of being both aggressive and passive--to make love to someone, have you willingly opening yourself to me, Erestor, allowing me to experience the depth of your love and the depth of your body, and to be taken, to submit, to open myself to you, Maedhros, after so long a time.” He lazily rubbed a finger over Erestor’s left nipple while continuing to hold onto Maedhros with one arm.

“If you do will you tell me what he feels like?” Erestor whispered. “What it is like to have him possess you, and whether he is gentle at all? Surely he is, somewhat, at least for a time. Someone that sensitive cannot be only roughness. I would think he must have ideas of what to use, and when. Or do you both work at each other, teasing to see who can endure and provoke the other the most? I feel like Erestor gets to peek into the bedroom window...but without the window.”

Fingon took hold of Erestor’s face in his hands. “If gentle is your desire, then we shall join together like the whispering wind of midsummer.”

“Only for a little while and then you can be as rough as you like,” Erestor answered. Then, more shyly, “I wondered if you would both take turns kissing me and each other while Fingon loves me...just for a short time. I would really like that.”

“I would also like that.” Maedhros brought two fingers of his ungreased hand under Erestor’s chin and turned it as Maedhros lowered his head. As the pair kissed, Maedhros locked his gaze upon Fingon, and also moved his hand away from Erestor’s erection. He dipped his digits down between them and sought out the pucker of flesh, doing little more than rubbing against it to let his intentions be known.

Closing his eyes, the dark beauty moaned into Maedhros’ mouth to signal his pleasure. Holding onto both lovers lightly to keep awareness of who was doing what and where, he leaned toward the redhead, for the moment, determined to lose himself in these exquisite sensations.

Fingon watched, fingers slowly slipping away. Then his legs loosened their grip. Maedhros furrowed his brow and considered stopping his activities with Erestor to reach out to Fingon, until he saw Fingon reach for the jar. “Going to help us out?” asked Maedhros between kisses.

“You two look like you are doing just fine without me,” said Fingon. He sniffed at the balm and poked a finger into it, then wiped it off against the edge. He set it back down and swung his legs around to get off of the bed. “I will be right back.” He grabbed a robe from a hook on the door as an afterthought on his way out.


	8. Chapter 8

Maedhros stretched to reclaim the jar. “He sounds like he has a mission. So do I.” He rearranged Erestor so that he was still kneeling, but his knees were on either side of Maedhros’ legs, which spread him apart to allow access as Maedhros circled a finger around his destination. “How...frequently do you partake in being on the receiving end? I want to make sure I prepare you enough, but I am...finding myself a bit impatient.” His own erection, long and stiff, was dangerously close, had Erestor but decided to lower himself.

“Uhm, every day?” Erestor answered, confused. Was this actually a question? Maybe Fingon had never mentioned the Twice A Day Club.

“Every--oh. Every...every day? Good on you,” said Maedhros sounding...was that envy Erestor detected? “I suppose you will not mind this, then?” he asked, and two not one slippery fingers pressed inward.

“More,” Erestor pleaded, pressing and wiggling into the extremely welcome intrusion.

“Already? Mmm...exceeds expectations,” Maedhros lightly teased. “What a good boy. How can I deny you?” He did continue to prep with two fingers a little longer, but much sooner than he initially planned, Maedhros was sliding a third finger in with the first two. He kissed the back of Erestor’s head, neck, shoulders, and even stretched to reach his back. “I do not know if you are aware,” he said, one or two words between kisses, “but Gildor can take my whole hand.”

“That is too much for me,” Erestor cringed. “Gildor is...Gildor has special sexual powers. He is in another league for which I do not even qualify. It is like Fingon and gymnastics. I might be able to do some floor exercises but Gildor is in the elite super champion class and has all the trophies and somewhere there is a giant golden phallic statue in honor of his abilities.”

“That is a great idea,” chortled Maedhros. “Now I want to make him something like that, but I fear he might try to use it...and thank you for voicing your limitations. You have no idea how much that is appreciated.”

“Can I just grow him some more vegetables instead?” Erestor grunted. “I saw the way he looked at the spineless zucchinis. And the cucumbers, parsnips and carrots. And those curly winter squash from the far side of the island and...what about I just shorten this to anything vaguely shaped like a dick?”

“I did fuck him with a parsnip once. It was completely unintended, but...Gildor is Gildor.”

“I have so many questions,” Erestor muttered, more than a little interested, but right now the three very real fingers up his ass far outstripped the thought of vegetables. Impatient, he tried to move so that Maedhros would rub his prostate but all he succeeded in doing was achieving ‘really close but not quite’ and voicing a steady stream of tuneful noises.

“Ah, I think I know what you need.” Maedhros used his free hand to press on Erestor’s back, moving him onto all fours, hands and knees. As he rubbed the back of Erestor’s neck, Maedhros stretched further and further in until he felt he was at his mark. “Is this better, lover?” he asked as he struggled a little to move all three fingers independently enough to offer continuous stimulation.

Erestor was bowed down and whimpering in a torrent of bliss. “Y-Yes...thank you so much...Fingon...not coming back?” he wondered aloud. 

“He said he was,” said Maedhros, though his quick look to the door made it evident that he, too, was worried.

“Want him but do not...not sure how long can last...oh, so good, Mae. Your fingers get golden statue too.”

“Is it wrong of me to hope he gets back too late?” Maedhros gave an experimental smack to Erestor’s rear with his free hand.

Erestor paused, and threw back his head, eyes staring to the ceiling. “I know what I said earlier. Full honesty, though, is that every fiber of my being wants to be taken by you.” Inky hair draped over a neck that now bowed low. “Forgive me, if that was something wrong – if I was too forward. With Fingon I was so afraid of every word I said. I wanted him so badly and there were so many times I thought maybe we were about to have that moment...then the smallest unknown reminder, some memory...I worried to say a wrong thing in case I scared him away though I had committed to honoring his needs in my heart. I do not want that with you. Still, we will do what you wish.”

Maedhros slowly withdrew his fingers. His hand rested on Erestor’s hip. He was silent for a moment. “Erestor…” He sucked in his breath. Swallowed hard. Bowing down, over Erestor, to speak softer, closer to his ear, he said, “If there is to be ‘we’, then we make these decisions together. Do you want me tonight? For I cannot lie--I will take you now if you only say yes.”

“Yes! Yes, Maedhros!” he cried out very clearly, leaning his head toward where the words had been spoken. A great deal transpired in the next few seconds. Erestor’s hands clasped together in front of him; the posture called to mind one prostrate in prayer. Gazing on the ring he wore with its brilliant gem, he allowed yearning for the one who made it to wash over him one final time. Before Ilúvatar and in his heart he willingly committed to the final parting, then spoke to Maedhros again. “In Eru’s name I offer myself to you in deepest humility. I will seek your welfare over my own, and make every effort to care for you. With a devoted heart, I promise to honor as sacred the love and loyalty I owe to our bond.”

“Before Eru, and all that is holy, I give myself to you. My body with your body. My soul with your soul My heart with your heart.” As he spoke, Maedhros slicked his erection and dipped his fingers again into the jar. He smeared the balm over Erestor’s prepared entrance and positioned himself to penetrate him. “I love you.” The words were punctuated as Maedhros pierced Erestor with the entirety of his swollen length. Maedhros pulled Erestor close, and held onto him, waiting to move until given leave to do so.

“I also love you,” Erestor spoke in surprise on an exhalation, breathing into the sudden fullness, so much fullness. Findekáno was similarly endowed but had never entered so quickly; a chill had run the length of him that still had not abated and this was something to be savored. He grasped his lover’s arms, head back against his chest, so possessed. He knew he trembled a little; how could he not when this magical electricity settled over him? Rosy lips pressed against a strong bicep. “I am yours, lover. Show me what comes next. I put myself in your hands.”

“Everything,” rumbled the deep baritone. “Everything you ever desired.” And movement followed. Not a thrusting, jerky movement, but a rolling of his hips. The power of a tide coming in, hitting the shore, propelled by the raw power of the waves. Massive as he was, Maedhros did not need to move with as much speed as any of the others to project the force required to make Erestor achingly moan. Maedhros remained deep, so deeply embedded, that even the small increments he pulled out caused a welcomed friction for Erestor, who pleaded each time for Maedhros to fill him once again. 

“Before we finish I want to be able to see you,” Erestor asked, groaning from each stroke. “See your face, look into your eyes. How can I ever deserve such pleasure, my prince? To know we will always be together as family brings me so much happiness, like all of the blossoms on a tree in springtime wafting sweet scent, or a thousand butterflies in a meadow of flowers or a starry night reflected on a still lake. What do I do with that? How you make love to me, Mae...your body...always so beautiful.”

“See you...yes, I want that, too.” Maedhros wrapped an arm around Erestor’s waist and eased them both back. The repositioning was executed slowly and without him detaching from Erestor. Once he was seated with Erestor impaled upon him, Maedhros further exhibited dexterity by moving Erestor a half turn before easing him back down again. Maehdors had to lean back a little to keep them together, but from his vantage he could look directly into Erestor’s dark eyes. “Feel me,” he said as he held onto Erestor’s hips and brought his own body up slightly. “Know me as you have never known me before. My mind is open to you.” Indeed it was, thoughts of them under starry skies with thousands of fluttering butterflies tickling their skin as they flew all around them, as they kissed, held one another, and made love in a field of blossoming flowers.

Reaching with a trembling hand, Erestor caressed as much of Maedhros’ body as he could touch; moved his fingers over the contours of bone and muscle and in a deep act of faith dropped his mental barriers to the same extent being given to him. The jumble of his life, fears, hopes, goals, aspirations all awash in a fervent devotion laid bare; a book open for perusal. Glorfindel had seen this much...after thousands of years of patient perseverance. Fortunate Maedhros gained this prize of Erestor’s trust effortlessly; the best proof he could give of his efforts to be that better person he wished to be. It was all there tumbling around, nothing so neatly laid out as his words turned into his lover’s vision, but woven through all of it was his passionate yearning for Maedhros.

A pinwheel of memories and emotions spun around, and Maedhros slowed his movements as the wisps of thoughts came and went as Erestor’s mind whirled around him. Some things were familiar, but most was not, and already Maedhros was cherishing this insight. “I see you,” he whispered with reverence. Something flashed by, something he could tell Erestor had been unsure of sharing. Tears fluttered on the ends of Maedhros’ lashes, and he pulled Erestor closer again and held him. “No one will ever leave you like he did. I am not my father. No one will throw you away like she did. I promise you. None of us are going anywhere. You should have been loved and adored. You are a treasure, far greater than any jewel. I love you. Always.”

The embrace was returned, Erestor’s spirit reaching toward the one who held him. “I need you. You are such a gift and I will give you all I can to show you my love in return. I thank Eru for sending you to me. Bless you, Maedhros. I love you. I have always loved you.”

As they relaxed a little, Maedhros brought a hand behind Erestor’s neck and kissed him full on his lips. At the same time, his other hand reached down between them to take hold of Erestor’s erection. “I am blessed,” he agreed. “We both are.” His hand began to stroke and pull at the head of the stiff length. “Feels so good. Not just physically. Feels so good to be part of your life in this way. Feels so good to be loved by...by you,” his voice cracked.

“It feels good that...do not know how to say this without sounding like I am slighting Káno whom I deeply love. Things about me...I know he loves me...but my mind is too much for him. Too messy. Some things about me do not work for him. That is alright, I love him too much to place myself first. But there is...it gratifies me, makes me feel very good that it does work for you? This is like slipping into warm water. Easy. No effort. Nothing difficult. I have never had anything like this and I appreciate it greatly. Just like your kisses and touches. I am being very spoiled and I thank you for every moment.”

“I am loving every moment of this. I...I want to talk more, but I...I do not want to hold back any longer. May I?” A hand touched Erestor’s hip and Maedhros looked pleadingly into Erestor’s eyes.

Tears formed on Erestor’s dark lashes. “Make me your husband, and give me the same.”

Both of Maedhros’ hands took a firm hold on Erestor’s hips. Instead of thrusting upwards, Maedhros manipulated Erestor’s body, lifting him and guiding him back, over and over, always watching, always his eyes wide open, until the growing passion caused him to pull Erestor as close as he could manage. One hand moved back to Erestor’s engorged length, and his other pulled Erestor’s hair back, gently, so that Maedhros could kiss Erestor’s throat before he crashed into him, kisses muffling the grunts and hisses as Maedhros’ release became evident. “Husband...together,” he whispered.

Writhing atop the dominating body that had pitched his tension ever higher, Erestor heard the words; a silken command his body rushed to obey. A cry stifled in his throat and for the moments that came after, he experienced the most unusual sexual gratification of his life. e felt like he did not entirely inhabit his own person. Concentrated pleasure burst forth, but he really felt as though he merged with his new husband, actually into Maedhros, and was feeling Maedhros making love to him as though he were his own partner...before snapping back into his own body again. Once there, the onslaught of wave after wave of his climax brought bliss. Held tightly, kissed, his body on fire with passion and an awakened sense of Maedhros, a new connection; his mind reeled and his husband was there with him.  _ Thank you for something so beautiful.  _ Erestor guessed that he might be crying, though he was not fully certain; the mind-body connection felt very overwhelming. Then…  _ Gildor, thank you. I have not forgotten your generosity and I will give all I can to show my love to you as well. You have all my heart’s appreciation for what you have given me. _

“Gildor is very, very generous.”

The lovers on the bed directed shocked attention to the doorway. There Fingon stood, door closed behind him. “When...did you get here?” asked Maedhros cautiously.

“I...uhm...not too long. I did not mean to intrude! I meant to come back sooner, but there was an unexpected incident, and when I came in, well, I feared if I tried to sneak back out I would make more noise than intended, and you are both really very beautiful together. I am...actually very glad you did not need me after all,” said Fingon. “I...probably should leave you...some time alone…”

“NO!” Erestor yelled petulantly, which was entirely amusing given Maedhros had still not slipped out of him. “No, no, no, no, no! Want you! Here in this bed! Stop running off, Findekáno! You promised me your cock up my ass all day long and by Eru, I want your cock up my ass! Mae, tell him his cock needs to be up my ass. Unless it is going to be up your ass. It needs to be somewhere up an ass and it needs to be in this room, and if it is not I am going to become difficult!”

Maedhros looked to the doorway. “I think you are supposed to stay,” he said calmly.

Twisting the fingers of one hand, Fingon looked down at his unerect penis. In fact, it seemed to have retreated even further back than normal. “I can stay, but you still might have to become difficult.” Fingon perched on the very corner of the bed, furthest from the couple. “Congratulations,” he said. He offered a smile.

“Thank you,” Erestor said, grasping that Fingon’s mood had shifted more than he realized and looking down. “I, uhm, apologize for my poor choice of words. What I should have said is that it feels to me like you are running away, I do not know if it is me or us, and either way I and we want you. I feel really...emotional about you having left and about you talking like you want to leave again, it is really upsetting me. If there is something wrong I and we want to know what it is and if there is nothing wrong I and we at least want to snuggle. I never will force anything sexual on you, ever. I hope you know that.”

“I know.” Fingon traced the edge of the bed spread. “I left so I could bathe and prepare myself in case...you know. And then there was an interruption. But I had intentions…in case.”

“In case...we made love?” Erestor asked tentatively, confused.

“Right. That.” Fingon moved his hands so he was sitting on them. “Never actually made it there, and then I realized I was gone a while, so I hurried back. Kind of a relief to find you managed without me.” He looked up at them. “Every-everything good with it? It sounded-sounded good.”

“Sweetie, come here to us please? I do not need to be Eru to know something is not right for you. We are both yours. Will you not tell us what you are feeling?” Erestor reached and held out his hand, sighing with silent regret when he felt Maedhros slip out of his body. This moment, their bonding, would only happen once for them and instead of being able to be lost in the bliss of this new cleaving of their spirits (that at this very moment was causing his mind to reel)… _ this _ .

“Fin, please. We did want you here. No one is upset you were here, if that is your worry,” said Maedhros.

“I also have some fear that taking this step without your explicit consent offended you,” Erestor admitted, a slight quaver in his voice. “I did not expect to feel moved to do this with such immediacy.”

“You were beautiful. You both were,” insisted Fingon. “I did watch much of it. I just…” He shook his head. “I am not going to make this about me. This is a night you should have good memories from.”

“On what is still supposed to be your honeymoon with Maedhros,” Erestor now recalled with remorse. “If you do not tell me I will sit here and mope and then no one is going to have good memories. Káno, please? There is no ‘about you’. You are my husband and if you think I am going to ignore you when I can see something is the matter, think again. I am fairly certain I am speaking for your redheaded other spouse as well.”

“And the only thing sadder than one moping husband is two moping husbands,” added Maedhros.

Fingon rubbed the side of his head. “There I stood, watching the two of you, incredibly passionate and sexy. I should have been aroused, but…” He motioned at his lap. “I worry sometimes that I am just...an imposter. A straight man who likes to dress like a woman and is open-minded enough to be fucked now and then.” He started to bite at his thumbnail.

Erestor frowned, baffled. “Uhm...I am going to need more help to understand. An imposter of what? If you are what you just said, why is that a problem? You are still you. Or...do you mean that you feel love for me or us falling away from you?”

“I think I love you both more every day. I feel like I cannot tell who I am...what I am. That seems unfair to everyone else. But...maybe it does not matter. Maybe I am just tired,” he rushed.

“I think all of us are tired, darling. Please, come snuggle with us?” asked Maedhros. He lifted the blanket, and while Fingon hesitated, he did crawl over. “There is no pressure to do anything, but I feel two things stand out. You made a point to tell us you prepared yourself, and you said you are open-minded about certain things. Are you...feeling open-minded at the moment?”

Fingon blushed.and pulled the blanket up. “I was explaining my absence. I never got that far. I am feeling tired. It was a long night.”

“I am going to get a damp cloth,” Erestor announced quietly, knowing that Maedhros had to still have a sticky hand from his seed. He could help with that much. Procuring the needed item from the pitcher on the sideboard in the room, he returned and wiped Maedhros clean before blotting at himself. Fingon’s presence in the room compelled the soiled cloth to tidily relocate into the basket for defiled laundry as opposed to certain other masculine habits. Grinning at what he or Glorfindel would have done with the cloth in Fingon’s absence, Erestor rejoined the pair to see what whispers and murmurs his fiery god had conjured by way of seduction.

“...so I do not feel jealous, no...I maybe feel…” Fingon frowned. “Inadequate. You wanted that with me, and I am glad you were able to find it with Erestor.”

“I still do want it with you, when you are ready. Until then--”

“What if that day never comes?”

Maedhros stroked Fingon’s cheek with the back of his hand. “Whatever happens, I am thankful for what we do have. So long as I never again have to hold your broken, trampled body because I did not listen, did not come to you in time, did not tell you enough how much I love you.”

Fingon squeezed his eyes shut. “I am sorry. I am selfish, and--”

“Shh. Stop that.” Maedhros coaxed Fingon into his arms and he motioned that Erestor should spoon up behind Fingon. “You are loved, and you have fears, and while I am not glad for them, I am glad for your openness right now.”

“So much happened today, love. Be kind to yourself. I love you. You saved me.” Erestor leaned up, enough to press a few kisses on the pale cheek before settling down and molding himself against the slender body, holding him securely.

Maedhros had been studying Fingon’s eyes, and he cleared his throat. “I am not Gildor by any stretch, but that does not mean some of his knowledge has not rubbed off on me. Part of you has some amount of pent-up sexual tension.”

Fingon shrugged.

“But after what happened tonight, you saw yourself in a mirror somewhere. Probably in the hallway, on your way here. What you saw was not a reflection of what you feel.”

Fingon wiped under one eye and then the other. 

“You are very proud, so you have a request, but you do not want to be a bother.”

Cheeks colored red, and Fingon looked away.

“Erestor, is there something that can be used as a blindfold?” asked Maedhros.

“Yes.” In a moment, a scarf (really more of a bandana) was procured, proffered and placed on Fingon, since obviously that was the point of the request.

Maedhros brought Fingon closer and stroked his hair. “Finya?” he tried.

Fingon’s shoulders shook, and it did not take Maedhros long to realize why. The dampening blindfold began to slip off. As Fingon clung to Maedhros, he whimpered, “How can I ever be pretty when under the silk and lace and make-up, I still look like this?”

“Oh, honey.” Tears pricked at Maedhros’ eyes as well. He shook his head at Erestor, and then reached out to him with his mind.  _ The one thing I can never fix for him, no matter how hard I try. It hurts me to see him like this and to feel helpless, but how helpless he must feel. _

_ I am confused because to me he is beautiful and this is when I am so afraid to ask questions. What is not pretty? That he has male organs? That there are not breasts? I know there is unhappiness with his body but to me it is glorious and I do not understand his mind. Her mind. Their mind. So much of my time with him has been loving him, wanting to help and afraid to say or ask or...it is so easy to make it worse so I hold him and try to coax him to tell me but usually, until recently, he often would not. More often than not, he hid it from us so well. _

_ He needs help, Erestor, in ways we might not be able to provide. Gildor has spoken to me about it a few times now. Gildor is too close to him now, though, I fear, and this island has no resources. If Edrahil really is still on the island, I want to find him before he leaves.  _ To Fingon, Maedhros said, “You have always been pretty to me, baby. To all of us. Right, Erestor?”

“Pretty, beautiful, exquisite, beyond price,” Erestor said, his voice quavering as his hands caressed Fingon’s body. “Sweetheart I would do anything to take this hurt from you.”  _ Do you want me to find them? I...Asfaloth can take me, I can look, they have to be staying somewhere nearby. I really would do anything… _

_ He needs you here more right now. Gildor can contact his father and sort it out later. Right now is not the appropriate time for a surprise therapy session, but he is our husband. If he cannot reach out himself, it is our responsibility to help him. Right now, he is very vulnerable, and, I have not forgotten that he did come in here with the intention of being involved.  _ Maedhros tested his theory and kissed Fingon’s trembling lips. Instead of pulling back, Fingon wound his arms around Maedhros’ neck and kissed him back.

Giving way to his overwhelming need to comfort his husband, Erestor formed against Fingon and peppered his neck with kisses, moving his hair aside, massaging tense muscles gently. He blew streams of air from a distance, so they would just barely register on his sensitive ears, and gave other gestures of warm affection; tried to surround him with a sense of love and being wanted. The freckling on the pale skin reminded him of the vision he and Maedhros had just shared of loving each other beneath a field of stars, and he privately shared that with his new mate. Fingon was their starry heaven. With that thought, Erestor’s heart overflowed with love and all he could do was hold Fingon close.

Maedhros managed to turn onto his back and keep hold of Fingon, so that Fingon was now half-straddling Maedhros. “You make the decisions, love. Do you want me, or do you want him?” he asked. 

Fingon sat up just a little. Maedhros beneath him. Erestor to the side. He rubbed his eyes to clear his vision. “Both,” he could barely be heard saying.

“I need you to know what Mae and I shared,” Erestor told Fingon with a shaky voice. “Need you to know what you are to me. I will try hard not to have all my mind overwhelm you with...things...maybe Maedhros can help somehow…” Reaching for both of them, he moved so that he guided Fingon to look at him, meet his eyes. Chastely he kissed cheeks and lips with emotion that ran far beyond lust and opened his thoughts until the scene of lovemaking under the stars became clear, with the added joys of flowers and  _ wilwaren  _ until merging with that was their husband’s living skin. Every freckle, every fleck shone as a star in Erestor’s view, so great was his reverence and desire for his mate. He only wished to be closer to that which he loved so deeply. Oblivious, he had become aroused again while focused on these emotions.

“He claimed you, and I know. I saw,” reminded Fingon. “If I claim him, and you claim me,” Fingon began to reason, “it would...it would be like a circle.”

“It will be however you wish,” Maedhros said as he looked up at Fingon.

Erestor brushed his hand across Fingon’s cheek, then took his hand and slowly began kissing his way up the wrist and forearm with devoted little tender gestures, waiting on his husband to be sure. He was more than desirous of expressing any form of love that would be welcome.

Maedhros fished around until he found the jar of balm and handed it to Fingon. “However you wish,” he repeated.

Fingon took hold of the jar and cupped it with both hands. He looked at it and then looked at Maedhros. He bit his lip.

Gently, Maedhros took the jar back. “Erestor, might you assist? I think there should be enough left for you to prepare me and to make sure that Fingon is relaxed enough to receive you.”

“You two kiss and leave the rest to me,” Erestor ordered, pleased. This was like being able to conduct chamber music, homosexual style.

Maedhros beckoned Fingon closer. The redhead stayed on his back. His limbs moved slowly. Fingon began with tentative exploration, but as soon as Maedhros ran his fingers behind Fingon’s ears, there were whimpers and grunts, undulating hips, legs spreading wantonly, and a peek over Fingon’s shoulder from Maedhros, who gave Erestor a nod.

Erestor reached to find the tight entrance, rubbing the muscular ring and the area around it.  _ Talk to me, my handsome god. I have never had this privilege with you and Gildor has never hinted at what you like. What pleases you most? I think you are new to this, if I am keeping straight all that was said these last days? If relaxing the most quickly is what you wish, push against me. If you wish me to stimulate you quickly, I will stroke your prostate to counter stretching you. Do you like the sting of penetration or do you prefer to avoid it as much as possible? _

_ Your guess is as good as mine. I place my trust in you. Whatever you think is best. I have an idea, though, for later. I do not want Fingon to have regrets. What if, after he enters me, you straddle my face? Gildor will not mind me telling you that he wakes me up in that manner sometimes, refusing--playfully--not to remove himself until I suck on his balls. Would you like that? It would allow you to see Fingon, and for you to touch him. _

_ Is there an actual gay man who will say no to that? Because I would not turn down that offer...but just so you know, fucking me until I explode and then moving along is never going to disappoint me either. Uhm wait, that was not what I meant to ask you. Dammit, Mae! I...oh yes because this is important. You are not to have regrets either and I do not like ‘whatever I think is best.’ Was...was your bonding to Fingon pleasurable or were you hurt? _

Maedhros would have laughed out loud, but he was mindful of Fingon.  _ Eressë, I did not mean it in a way of not caring. I honestly trust your judgement. You have more experience than I do, and I like surprises, and maybe ‘surprise me’ would be better? I did have a lot of enjoyment, but I was also sore. Oh, the tale I have to share with you later. A sexy bedtime story, if you will… _

_ Ohhhh....I repent!  _ His mental voice was tinged with humor.  _ I can see where our early days are going. Two newlyweds both struggling to remember that the other is not our beloved Findekáno. Very well, you have made yourself clear.  _ A long finger twisted inside to circle and dance over the little gland Erestor knew so well, adding in subtle motions too difficult to describe with his dexterous hand. Whether this was surprising, well, who knew?

Fingon paused as Maedhros let out a very loud moan. “Are you...alright?”

“Fuuuuck yessssss.” Maedhros inched his legs further apart. “Just...getting ready for you, baby.”

Fingon ran a finger down Maedhros’ body, from his throat to his belly button. “Eres...Eres, I do not know if I can--”

“Shh, honey, he is going to take care of what I need to be ready for you, and then the only thing he is going to do to you is give you all of his kisses. Right, EressssssmmmmmmhhhhHmmm...ugghhhnnn...there, that, right, yessss,” pleaded Maedhros as Erestor curled a finger again.

“Is Maedhros getting enough kisses?” Erestor asked idly, rubbing and lightly scratching at the skin of Fingon’s back and occasionally kneading a shoulder. “It seems to me he was able to speak a lot of words just now.”

“He is surprisingly coherent,” agreed Fingon as he curled a lock of red hair around his fingers.

“I thought you liked to hear my v---mmm…” Maedhros was silenced, except for moans and muffled sounds of pleasure. He experimented on pressing against Erestor and squeezing his muscles, and found it all pleasing.

A second finger was tried on Maedhros, who seemed to tolerate the intrusion well enough, though Erestor was careful to wait before stretching more. “My dark beauty,” Erestor murmured near Fingon’s ear. “You need to let me know if you want what he is having. I do not want you to feel pressured to sample the menu.” Of course just at that moment Erestor delivered what he knew would be a series of particularly exquisite strokes inside of Maedhros, who was being played like his violin.

Fingon remained silent, but Maedhros spoke up. “I cannot wait to feel you within me, Fingon. As good as Erestor is making me feel now, I know you are going to make my body sing. Oh, but am I talking too much?” he teased Erestor.

“Maybe. Maybe the servant needs to distract a little.” Reaching far over to the headboard where a few objects had already been brought to reside (courtesy of Gildor) Erestor grabbed what was there, knowing it would be consented to. The end of the toy best sized for their current progress was lubricated, and with Erestor silently explaining what he was doing and why (and that it should definitely be gently removed before Fingon entered) Erestor left a de facto placeholder for his stretching efforts and rose, stretching himself. His still-damp hair swept around as he began dancing in the same style as earlier, including both lovers in his attentions in an effort to increase Fingon’s interest. If he was very fortunate, he would be able to walk normally tomorrow but there was no fool like a fool in love, he smiled to himself.

“I can feel why Gildor enjoys these.” Maedhros was rocking up against Fingon a little, his rock hard erection sliding against Fingon’s member, which was hardening but still somewhat pliant in the way it sort of wiggled a bit when Maedhros rubbed against him. “Ah, I see there is an encore,” he drawled as his gaze was stolen away from Fingon for a moment to observe the swaying beauty charming them with his dance.

Fingon’s eyes were also upon Erestor. His hands, one upon Maedhros’ chest and the other on his shoulder, he used to push himself up into a more seated position. He looked down between them, then up at Maedhros’ face. “I wonder how it feels…” he murmured.

Maedhros shifted up on his elbows (a move that, to his delight, was favorable in what he was feeling within) to get a better look at Fingon. “How what feels, beautiful?”

“You. In me. If I just...just stopped overthinking it and impaled myself on you.” Fingon reached down and petted the curve of the tip of Maedhros’ erection, causing his partner to groan but force himself to keep still. Fingon stopped when the sticky droplets began to herald Maedhros’ readiness. “Rode on you with all the energy I still have within me. Squeezed every last droplet out of you.”

Maedhros pressed his lips together and closed his eyes. “You make all the decisions tonight. If you want that, I am here. If you desire something else, simply name it.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Erestor added in sultry tones, bending low. “That is what a King receives; his desire. We here wait upon yours, whatever that may be.”

“In that case, my desire is not to be king.”

“Then not king. Anything different? I already know how I see you and Mae’s thought is not hidden from me but I do not have a clear grasp of what is in your mind.”

“It might be better that way.” Fingon closed his eyes and rubbed against Maedhros. “This is nice,” he opined as Maedhros loosely placed a hand on Fingon’s hip.

_ Mae, it may be my turn to sit this one out. He is doing better with you. I think maybe if I just am here, or hum or similar? Stay near but quiet? The best thing he could do is find release and be cuddled. Thoughts? _

_ Trust me--he is missing you. You anchor him. Please join us? I think you will enjoy what I am offering, too.  _ Maedhros gave Erestor his best tempting look.

_ I am yours to command, Maedhros.  _ A self-deprecating smile appeared as he came alongside and tried to lean toward Fingon, half-wondering if he would be rebuffed.

But that was not to be. Two things happened when Erestor took the position suggested by Maedhros. Fingon’s eyes snapped open, and he grasped Erestor behind the neck and pulled him close to kiss him. At the same time, Maedhros used his powerful arms to hold Erestor and move him to just the right position so that he could alternate sucking and licking as he had promised, sometimes taking one or both into his mouth to roll them around with his tongue.

It was evident from his mastery that Gildor woke him up with this a LOT.

Wholly surprised, Erestor melted into Fingon’s affection; the most wanted and least anticipated because he had so thoroughly convinced himself to expect disappointment. He did his best to show restraint but knew his response must feel hungry – for it was. Regarding the other very new and delightful sensations to which he was being treated...he doubted he would manage Gildor’s degree of audacity anytime soon but this was extremely sensual and...how in Arda had these two come up with this? Then again Gildor was involved, so there was a story. He could spend time pondering later that he had as good as wed Gildor too, because that... _ Indis was going to hear about this. All of this _ . Stifling jubilant laughter at the thought of her expression, warm thoughts filled him and he plunged his tongue deeply into Fingon’s mouth, his entire being enlivened with joy and delight.

Fingon kept one hand on Maedhros for balance and to keep the connection with him. His other hand rubbed the back of Erestor’s neck while he sucked on Erestor’s tongue. Once he had established a solid pace, Fingon’s hand traveled down to Erestor’s chest. “One of my favorite memories of you,” he said as they parted for breath, “was that night we were in the hallway with the bottle. I went over that again and again in my mind after, questioning myself, worrying I had lost my chance. I knew that night I was hopelessly in love with you. I am so blessed to have been given a second chance.” Beneath them, Maedhros moaned at this confession, providing an interesting sensation for Erestor.

Panting for air, Erestor’s lips stayed close. “Wanted you. Ached for you. But it would have been wrong. Most torn I had ever felt in my life, so emotionally abandoned by my husband and completely in love with you but could not turn to you. Not really. That is why...thank you, for letting me have Maedhros. You could have said no and I would not have questioned you in any way. Maybe you understood. I am still completely in love with you and it is all the sweeter now that I may have you. Both of you.” Lurching forward, Erestor kissed Fingon aggressively in a clash of lips, unable to contain his passion.

Beneath Erestor, Maedhros doubled down, now using a hand to stroke Erestor’s erection while still licking and kissing the warm flesh he had been suckling. Fingon whimpered and began to hump faster as he kissed Erestor as he had once wanted, holding nothing back. The hand he had placed on Erestor’s chest now twisted and flicked the pebbled nubs he knew would help bring Erestor to climax a second time.

Outnumbered, Erestor did not attempt to resist the onslaught except to last as long as he could. The kisses were unraveling him as much as anything but fighting only worked for so long. The pleasure built into something fierce, unstoppable and forced his frame into rigidity. Unwitting, he thrust against Maedhros as hard as he was able in his release; Fingon was kissed breathless. Behind his closed eyes Erestor’s vision flashed white in a perfect moment of physical ecstasy given voice as some deep sound in his throat. At least, he thought so? Maybe that part was a dream; no sensible (or insensible) man stopped an orgasm to analyze it while it was still happening.

A little rumble of laughter came from Maedhros. “You are delightfully loud,” he said as he gave Erestor’s rear a squeeze. “I look forward to the fun we will have in the future.”

“Eres?” Fingon rubbed Erestor’s arm. “Do you happen to have any more of Gildor’s toys handy? I am wondering if there might be a king-sized version avail--wait, no, bad choice of words. King-sized could mean huge. Not huge. One appropriately sized for a king that needs less than normal, uh, size.”

“Did you want a little something to make you feel good inside, darling? I can look but I would be equally honored to wash my hands and volunteer my services,” Erestor smiled, wiggling his fingers. “Smaller than any of the toys.”

Fingon slowed down, almost to a stop as he considered this.

“Or...did you...clean up back there?” asked Maedhros. “When you were gone?”

“Yes…” said Fingon. “I flushed everything out. Because...well, this is me. I never quite had a chance to prepare myself, so there is no oil back there.”

“Well, if you would like, I could do that thing with my tongue that you used to like,” offered Maedhros.

Fingon looked from one to the other with uncertainty.

Erestor forced himself to silence but the expression on his face screamed pure envy. Clearly he wanted very badly to know the definition of ‘that thing with his tongue’ so he could both wield and experience it.

“What if I start and Erestor finishes?” suggested Maedhros. Fingon considered and slowly nodded. “You have to let me up, then.” Fingon nodded again and crawled off. He stayed on his hands and knees as he waited for Maedhros.

Erestor checked first in Gildor’s collection but as he guessed, the majority of their playthings likely were still in the room he shared with Maedhros. This was at best an emergency kit, and nothing here seemed like it would suit Fingon’s preference, which he guessed was not to be too stretched or risk pain. A frown furrowed his brow. He thought Fingon never had experienced pain with them...probably best not to overthink it. Returning, he sought a position that would let him see what Maedhros was up to.

Crawling behind Fingon, Maedhros suddenly play-mounted Fingon without coming close to entering him, and bit the back of his neck rather hard. Fingon hissed, then purred as Maedhros retreated back. There were no words spoken, though Maedhros made some chuffing noises as he nosed at Fngon’s hindquarters and sniffed at his anus. His tongue flicked over Fingon’s skin, and Fingon growled, but seemed...hypnotized was probably the best word for it. His eyelids had drooped soon after Maedhros’ mock show of dominance. Then Maedhros used his hands to spread Fingon’s flesh and better display the cleft. Maedhros rolled his protruding tongue into a tubelike shape and pressed it slowly into Fingon’s entrance. Fingon whimpered a little as Maedhros hummed, and while it looked like nothing was happening, something certainly was, for Fingon was rocking back against Maedhros’ face, and whined and tossed his head back until Maedhros slowly withdrew.

“It goes in tight, and then I relax and it sort of flowers within,” explained Maedhros to Erestor before he entered a second time.

Blinking, Erestor sat back and found a comfortable rest on his own folded legs, eyes peering over his knees. He could more easily hide his amazement this way. These two had their own complete sexual catalogue and he did not have the foggiest clue as to the filing system. If he and Fin had not even thought of it, just on principle he was impressed...and clearly his husband adored what he was being treated to. Flowering tongues. _ Fin? Fin are you there? I am unqualified. He has a flowering tongue. I am out of my league. _

It was not Glorfindel who answered.  _ I can probably teach you. He needs extra time. I used to spend, literally, days of foreplay sometimes. Sometimes things you do not realize are foreplay are. _

_ I want to know more about the flowering tongue.  _ THAT was Glorfindel.

_ Well, so do I. I Apparently need a demonstration. Schooling. Master Erestor needs to be in class but mostly I am realizing how little I know about pleasuring my husband. Mae is right. I do not understand needing so much time to respond; I feel like I am failing if I try everything I know to no avail. I did not realize that what I have with Fin is so different. Maedhros felt...I guess you know,  _ Erestor said, embarrassed.

_ Do not beat yourself up!  _ admonished Glorfindel.  _ We have all been struggling to know what Fingon needs.  _

_ Fingon struggles to know what Fingon needs,  _ Maedhros reminded them all.

Not to be left out, Gildor joined in the conversation.  _ Erestor, you are amazing. All of us are. We had so much fun, you and I, those uncertain days of the Second Age, camping out, getting off together. Different people need different things.  _

_ Also, I cheated.  _ Maedhros, whose tongue was back inside of a panting, whimpering, writhing Fingon was teasing the head of Fingon’s shaft with whisper light touches of his fingertips.  _ That move I made? Leaping on him? I call that ‘the alpha’. I was not sure if it would still work. It causes him to slip into his ‘kitten’ persona. It...gives him permission to be sexual, if that makes any sense at all. That is my best way to explain, at least. This is not Fingon, nor Finya. This is Kitten. _

_ I am so lost. Please give me something I know how to do and cannot ruin for him and I will do my very best. I just want him to have pleasure. You are right, Gildor, what you said, and I have not forgotten. I am so in your debt...but school can start tomorrow? Right now I am feeling very goal oriented. _

_ A small lesson now. When I put my tongue back in, go bite the back of his neck. _

_ How hard??  _ Erestor asked, his mental voice anxious.

_ Get his attention, but do not hurt him. _

_ Alright. _

_ Trust me--and this is not meant to be demeaning--he is stronger than you. You have seen how two cats or two dogs will posture, and one will get the other onto their back? Channel that.  _ Maedhros positioned himself to poke his tongue back into Fingon’s body.

Erestor leaned in with a rumbling noise, as low as he could manage, and sank in his teeth (which he liked doing, very much) while shaking his head back and forth (but not too hard). Savoring that experience, he licked at where he had just bitten before concluding he wanted another go at it. This time he made a point of opening his jaw as far as it could extend, and biting again with a far more guttural growl.

The first time, Fingon whined. The second time, he yelped, but did not pull away. When Erestor released him, Fingon lowered his front half down, much in the manner of a play bow. He looked up, panting, looked over his shoulder at Maedhros who had paused, and then looked back up at Erestor. “He is...too big for me to take, but…” Fingon looked at Erestor’s cock and then back up to Erestor. “I really want someone to fuck me right now.”

“I will be happy to do that for you, darling, let me just find that jar while Maedhros uses that magic tongue…” Erestor did indeed look for the jar, and more, adding lubricant to himself slowly while trying to think erotic thoughts.  _ Please touch me. I will be in for jokes about the aged but I am feeling the dancing more and more. I want him but your hands can draw more from me than I can otherwise give… _

_ Just remember, you are not that much older than I am.  _ Maedhros, still hard himself, stroked his thick length a few times before he coaxed Erestor to take his place behind Fingon, only to come up behind Erestor. “Here...I have something for you to pass along to Fingon,” he teased as he plunged into Erestor, hoping he was still slick enough to take him in with the urgency he desired.

_ Yes. Yes oh yes. So obvious. Use me, Mae. Take me and use me _ . This was more than he could have wished for, and a few selfish moments were spent kneading the firm globes of Fingon, teasing a little with his thumbs while he hardened more. It was disconcerting, that his body was slow to respond for sex when this had never happened before that he could recall. Shaking his head, he told himself a lot had happened today, and not to dwell on it. Maedhros’ energy felt enlivening, something he could draw on, and very quickly he was able to place himself at Fingon’s entrance and be pushed forward. “Sweetheart, it is not really me,” Erestor groaned. “I am the toy. Our husband is making love to you. To both of us. He is...I am the extension of his body. I am his and I am yours. I love you, Káno.”

“Oh fuck..yes! I can feel you...I can feel you both…” A few tears, joy and relief, slid down Fingon’s cheeks. He lowered his head and pulled a pillow close, cuddling it while he pushed back towards Erestor and clenched his muscles, inviting him deeper. The energy that came from Maedhros--Fingon could feel it from the way Erestor penetrated him. “Really needed this,” he spoke against the pillow. He stopped trying to guide or move and just let his lovers take the lead.

Maedhros found that in the position he was in, the toy made attempts to slide out. He had to pull it back in with his muscles, and that allowed a different sort of sensation as he thrust into Erestor. It was like a wave of energy that flowed through him and he passed along to Erestor to share with Fingon. On one hand, he wanted to provide Fingon with a good, long fucking--it seemed needed--but he also knew he had his limits, and so did Erestor.  _ Make sure you touch his ears,  _ he reminded Erestor.

_ I know how to do that to torment him, and I know how to do that to cause him to lose it when I want him to come with me. If you mean something different you have to instruct me. And Mae, I want you to know that this, your body, what you are doing to me...I wish so much I had more to give tonight because I am content to go down taking all I can get. _

_ Just remember, this is the first of many, many nights we will have together. Now...as for Fingon...I do not know about you, but, I feel my age is showing, so if we can give him some fireworks, I think that might be best for all of us. If I was a betting man, I would bet against my being able to walk without a limp tomorrow. I regret nothing, but I think I speak for us both when I say Fingon is in an entirely different category when it comes to physical endurance. _

_ If I am not the only one struggling you are practically giving me pillow talk. And...I know. He is magnificent, even though that is probably a problem too. Well, darling, show me what you have in mind and make that beautiful man happy. _

_ Anything with his ears. Literally anything.  _ Maedhros struggled to keep up the momentum of his rhythm, and would have touched Fingon’s ears himself if he could but reach them. It was evident from the sounds that Fingon was making that he enjoyed everything that was going on, and likely could outlast them both if measures were not taken to speed up his reaction.

_ Touch the ears, sir yes sir!  _ Erestor jested, reaching to do just like that with a feather light stroke here and a quick rub there, waiting to see what effect his initial sortie had.  _ I am good at following orders except when I am not. Just ask anyone who has ever supervised me. _

Maedhros gave Erestor’s rear a small smack.  _ You are a delight. I look forward to more of your sass. Right now--tips of his ears more than the lobes, and for my benefit, I would not mind more of those sweet sounds you made for me earlier.  _ To emphasize or perhaps prod Erestor along, Maedhros thrusted faster, and deep, and gave a few grunts of his own.

A low moan that undulated in time to the motions of their bodies came from Erestor, interspersed with a few higher pitched mewls and finally “Please more spanking, please!” he begged, not forgetting to do what he had been asked concerning the ears. He was not shy in the least about loosing a torrent of interesting vocalizations; all meant to indicate the particular state of his ascending pleasure.

“Demanding, are you? You get an extra one for that.” Maedhros decided to pull out completely, gave Erestor’s bottom a few good swats, and then plunged back in. Then he thrusted a few times before pulling out again and gave Erestor some smacks that alternated cheeks. He could tell from the muffled groans that Fingon was feeling some of what was going on through Erestor. “I recall stories of princes of the race of men whose fathers kept ‘whipping boys’...stand-ins for punishments. I can think of one or two things Fingon has done lately that deserve a spanking, but perhaps you shall be the one to receive his discipline, Erestor. What do you think about that?”

“I have faithfully served in that capacity, O Masterful One. I have credentials and everything, and gladly volunteer to do that for his majestic, uhm, His Majesty’s...uhm...uhnnnnnn...spankings on behalf of the Royal Bottoms...ohhhhhh harder just like that yesssss, spanking boy Erestor needs more discipline, he is a sassy child uhnnnnnnnnhhhnnnmmmfff…” Lurching forward, his lips latched onto the tip of FIngon’s ear and sucked hard, taking as much of it in his mouth as his over-extended body could manage.

Roleplay with Maedhros was not new; memories from ages past began to surface in Fingon’s mind. To have someone else involved took it to a new level, and as soon as Erestor was tugging on his ear, Fingon writhed and shook as he released onto the sheets beneath them. Yet, he did not slump down onto the mattress; he wanted to feel Erestor climax inside his body, and said as much with his actions as he rocked back against Erestor.

Whining and whimpering, Erestor let go of the ear and bit into the thicker muscle of the upper shoulder, though not as hard as he had done earlier; this was something to anchor himself just as it was when he wrapped his arms around Fingon’s chest, sensing that the body underneath him was well-braced and meant to help him find his pleasure.  _ Harder, Mae, please! Let me come, I am so close! _

Plunging back into the deep warmth of Erestor’s body, Maedhros grasped not Erestor’s hips, but Fingon’s, and crashed up against Erestor repeatedly, continuing even as he felt his own body react. Maedhros got as close as he could to Erestor’s ear and promised him in his deep, silky voice, “Next time, you will be pliant beneath me. No sass; I plan to decorate that pretty mouth of yours with a leather gag. Matching cuffs on your wrists and ankles--I still owe you a chance to be suspended like that hammock, flesh bared, waiting for me to decide what to do with you. I would blindfold you, but I want you to watch me, anticipating my moves, never really knowing--except that in the end, I will fuck you like I am doing now.”

Twisting with an almost feral cry, Erestor felt himself come fully undone, and clung even harder to Fingon for some kind of anchor. He closed his eyes against a loss of orientation; something was moving or he had become convinced it was while ecstasy sheeted outward from his loins like driving rain before a tempest. When the strength of it faded he lay atop Fingon almost immobile, giving little kisses to the skin he had bitten. Speech was beyond him.

And Fingon....

Fingon was laughing.

“I feel like that was the only way this day could end,” he said.

“It could have ended with Gildor sucking everyone off. Actually, it still could, knowing him.” Maedhros got one last smack on Erestor’s rear before he extracted himself, mostly on account of a fear that no matter how sturdy Fingon was, no one needed two grown men lying on top of them. He stretched, groaned a little, muttered something about not being a spring chicken, and curled an arm around to extract Gildor's toy. “Uhm...hm.. Excuse me.” He carried it at arm’s length to the large closet that had not been a washroom but was serving as one for the time being.

Erestor blinked and tried to move. ‘Tried’ being the operative term. “Love?” he said in a small voice. “Love, I might have over-fucked. Nothing is working,” he whimpered. “This has never happened before. I guess you can dump me off sideways.”

Another chortle came from Fingon. “Kind of strangely enjoying you being my blanket. Even enjoying you being partially and limply still inside a little.” Fingon squeezed the muscles of his ass in case Erestor did not quite get his meaning.

“You have five minutes. We are all going back outdoors to bathe and soak and rest our ancient muscles.” Maedhros emerged from the closet, the toy now clean, and put it back with the small collection that had migrated in such a short time to the room. As he walked by, he gave Erestor’s rear a firm smack that echoed off the wall.

“What if I cannot move in five minutes?” Erestor panicked, convinced something had turned his bones into gelatine. He sighed. “I will have the memories.” He made sucking noises against FIngon’s back. “Lips still work,” he announced.

“Good. In four and a half minutes, you can pull yourself along the floor and down the steps by your lips,” suggested Maedhros.

“What if just his cock was working?” asked Fingon mirthfully. “Would you suggest he inch himself along on his belly using only his trouser snake?”

Maedhros turned and looked down at Fingon, mostly buried on the bed. “Imposter! Fingon would never say such words.”

“Meh,” was Fingon’s reply. He tried to shrug, but it was more of a twitch with Erestor on top of him.

“You are lucky Erestor agreed to take your lickings, or you would be subject to this right now,” said Maedhros as he came back and alternated a few light smacks over Erestor’s still glowing rump.

“Mmmmmm,” Erestor sighed happily. “Am going to like this relationship,” he grunted, finding that his fingers were partially cooperative now, so he used them to caterpillar his arms slowly to one side. “He gives out spankings. Just like that. No scheming or negotiation. If only little Eres was still talking to me. Alas for my deprivations and sufferings,” he concluded plaintively.

“You need but ask, sass, or otherwise be deserving of one,” declared Maedhros. “Just wait until your birthday...I might even round up your age that day if you are good,” teased Maedhros.

“You cannot count that high,” Erestor retorted. Then paused. “Nobody can count that high save Eru, honestly. It is too confusing. Can I have it licorice flavored?” he hinted.

“Licorice flavored what, gorgeous?” asked Maedhros. “Cake? Lube? Dildo?”

From under Erestor, Fingon laughed about a licorice dildo, but also sounded suspiciously like he was dozing off.

“It comes in dildos?” Erestor giggled excitedly. “Oh! We have that mold, I wonder if Fin could make it three dimensional...he makes good licorice, you know...why did I never think of this? See, you are a genius! This adds a whole new dimension to Suck and Fuck. Or wait, am I mixing this up with Fuck and Tuck...I really am tired…”

Maedhros was already in the planning phase. “We make a braided licorice dildo, so that you get all of these wonderful feels up your bum. Definitely need to rinse you out good ahead of time--I am sure Fingon has something to help with that. Maybe a nice warm anise and ginger enema to spice it up a little more. Then the braided dildo--but why stop there? Licorice restraints--I will need to talk to Fin about my plans.” Maedhros rubbed Erestor’s bum this time when he touched it instead of smacking it. “We are just going to eat you up. At least, I will,” he promised with a growl.

“Fin is going to be beside himself if he has someone with whom to share his food fetish. I have the fondest memories of how those encounters have gone.” He kissed Fingon some more, unsure if he still was awake or not.

Fingon nuzzled in Erestor’s direction, but began to snore lightly.

“Two minutes. Do you think you can walk, lovie, or do you need me to carry you?” asked Maedhros.

Thinking carefully, Erestor genuinely felt unsure, but he had already been carried up here in the first place. “I really do not know, Mae, but I will try? Let me hold your arm, please? This is pathetic, and I am embarrassed.”

“Let me try this another way. Will you allow me the pleasure of carrying you back across the threshold and down the stairs to take you for a very quiet midnight swim?” Maedhros blew a kiss to Erestor.

“Yes, of course,” came the quick answer, though he made no further progress removing himself from Fingon. Who was he kidding, walking downstairs when he could not decently push himself off of the body of his lover? Maybe if he waited another minute. Maybe he was transitioning from old to decrepit. Maybe it was not the age, it was the distances traveled.

“Fingon, that means you have to walk,” called out Maedhros. “And if you are sleeping, you need to go light your candle!” 

The shouting caused Fingon to have enough sense to open his eyes and half-shrug, half-roll Erestor beside him and closer to the edge of the bed to assist Maedhros in retrieving Erestor. “I am awake. For how long? Who knows?”

Like so much baggage Erestor ended up on his back, at least. What in hell was wrong with him, should he ask for Gildor? If this was not better soon he would. Maybe it was just the aftermath of one of the best sexual sessions ever; that could be the problem as well, in which case it was actually a good problem to have.  _ A positive outlook helps everything _ , he reminded himself. At the moment, he used what energy he could muster to move his long hair out of his face for it was half blindfolding him just now.

“Would you like a robe, or are you alright with me bundling you in a sheet for modesty while I carry you out?” asked Maedhros. He was wearing a pair of loose pants that were not his from the way they rode up halfway between his ankles and knees. Fingon was pulling a robe for himself from the back of a chair.

“I do not mind if you use the sheet that will need changing,” Erestor said, a smile spreading on his face. “Saves a step for all concerned. If you bring the robe  _ and _ the sheet we can use the sheet to feed the oysters,” Erestor giggled, “And I know where there is a clothesline to hang it for drying.” 

“Efficiency. I appreciate that in a beautiful man I can spend time in bed with,” Maedhros said with a smile. He bundled Erestor up and held him close. As he turned around, he saw Fingon, sitting in the chair, fast asleep. “Poor thing. We tuckered the kid out.”

“Put him to bed right after we get back and hope Erestor can move by then?” the dark beauty asked.

Maedhros lowered Erestor back onto the bed. “I answer your efficiency with my own.” The bed was large enough that Maedhros was able to roll the soiled bedding to the center from one side without disturbing Erestor, then carried him to the clean side and placed him, wrapped in the sheet, on top of the comforter. The other half of the bed was tidied up, and Fingon was carried to the makeshift washroom without waking or protesting. When Maedhros brought him back, he was naked and clean, and was tucked into bed. The piece of wax was slid beneath the pillow as Maedhros kissed Fingon’s forehead, and the single red candle was lit and placed by the window where Fingon would see it when he woke the next day. “Now I am ready,” Maedhros said.as he came to retrieve Erestor.

An array of cute and sarcastic quips came to mind, none of which felt right. When Maedhros approached, Erestor raised his arms as best he could, managing to grasp one shoulder a little but weakly; to his chagrin he was not much help.  _ Thank you for your care, _ he sent instead, selfishly elated they would have the time alone.

Maedhros did not speak until they were on the other side of the door. “Is it terrible of me that I am a little glad he fell asleep?” he whispered. “He had a long day, and he never sleeps enough. Also...it would be nice to have some time with you after all of that. I think we have a lot to discuss--not the least of which is licorice whips,” he said with a grin.

Erestor smiled lovingly. “Guilty.”


	9. Chapter 9

Dim light shrouded the room in a lazy haze that normally would have kept Erestor in bed a little longer, but a quick assessment of the occupants left an obvious absence from their chosen order at bedtime. Fingon had an end and held on to Erestor once he sensed him there in his sleep, and Maedhros did no differently. Doted on and fussed over, his overwrought body had been placed on cushions such that fine porcelain could not have been better protected. Still the huge redhead grasped his wrist but very loosely; he slumbered deeply still. The small sign of possession gratified him but he could not indulge his emotions just now, for Fingon had already left them and that seemed worrisome. Yesterday had been...volatile, a rollercoaster. Erestor yet felt the presence of his tall husband in his soul, though, so he had the comfort of not needing to look too far. Perhaps not tall, now that Maedhros was bound to him as well. Erestor took in them form beside him. No, Fingon was still tall. Maedhros was in an elite category when it came to height.

The cottage was quiet as Erestor made his way down the stairs, and the telltale sign of a dish drying in the rack meant the decision to get up had happened an hour or more ago. Erestor continued outside and saw the door of the barn was open. He strolled over and heard rustling of straw. As he pushed the door aside further, it creaked, giving fair warning. Erestor saw movement in the stall where they kept some of the new horses, and he slowly walked over, making as much noise as he could so as not to cause a startle.

For a minute he watched as the stall was being cleaned. When his husband did not turn around, Erestor cleared his throat. “Káno?” he asked tentatively, only after considering that his husband was wearing boots and leggings, but no shirt, with his hair pulled back into an unkempt ponytail.

“Oh-sorry. I was lost in thought.” The shovel was set aside to lean against the wall.

“Good morning.” Erestor gripped the top of the wooden barrier separating them. “May I call you Káno?”

“I was thinking about that this morning. I think Káno is good when no one is sure what to use--or Fin, for those who have known me a long time. And, in circumstances where it is known, she is Finya, and he is Findekáno. Of course, there is the kitten, and...other things, but...I find that I flinch when I hear the name Fingon. Before I was king, there were still people who would call me Findekáno, or just Fin, and after, it was only Fingon. I do not think I want to hear anyone calling me Fingon again if I can help it.” Gloves were removed and set on a shelf. “Fingon was a great man, and a great king, but he died in Middle-earth, and that is not necessarily a bad thing, for he was deceptive and harsh, and he is not what I aspire to be now. A constant reminder of my father’s death, of the lands we left...of so many unsavory things that I wish not to remember.”

“And...who am I speaking to today?” asked Erestor.

“Findekáno, my love.” He took hold of Erestor’s hand and rubbed his cheek against it before he kissed his palm. “Finya had a very exciting day. She has to sleep until at least noon. Beauty sleep and all that.” 

“Do you mind if...can I…”

“Please. Ask questions that you have. I am in a better place this morning than I have been in a long time, and while I may not be able to answer them all, I can at least try,” offered Findekáno. 

Erestor smiled. “Do you mind if I come around, because I would like to feel Findekáno’s arms around me?”

In answer, his husband sprang up and vaulted over the barrier, landing lightly on his feet next to him, golden eyes twinkling. Erestor was held quite securely. “Next question, cupcake?”

Laughing, Erestor returned the embrace. “Did not expect that. Alright. Uhm...damn. Please do not tell the others but you managed to completely disrupt my thoughts. I still like to feel I have a reputation to maintain.”

“I can understand that. I have been ruminating on my reputation. Reputations. I am not sure who or how to explain everything to next, or if I even want to in some cases. Some people, I do not care what they think--some, I do not think this is their business at all. I really have to consider it, though...I do not think last night was a one-time only event.”

“Nor should it be,” Erestor said. “Not remotely. While our circumstances are not the same...I have been considering in a few quiet moments I have had the similarities to you having hidden this side of your nature and me having forcibly hidden my identity as a homosexual as a result of what was done to me at the clinic. In a manner of speaking, we both did these things to ourselves; wholly repressed our identities because of deeply internalized beliefs. Once that is fully faced and freed, it is a lot to process. My advice to you is, do not underestimate how great of a spiritual achievement this has been for you. It is one of the single greatest steps to wholeness you will take. Give yourself time, beloved. I did not see this clearly in a day nor a week. It is a journey and that all of you were here for me, lending me your unconditional support and insight gave me such strength. I have not been able to say much to you since yesterday. I can hardly contain my joy or my pride, nor my...” Erestor looked up now, craning his head back on account of Káno’s height. “You are so very beautiful as Finya and I want you to know that though I identify as homosexual, I am very attracted to her. In here.” He held his hand over his heart. “I do love feminine beauty; I swooned when I saw Finya. I want you to know that.”

Findekáno blushed. “She is sad to have missed so much of the dancing you and Maedhros were doing last night. She hopes she might request an encore performance.”

Erestor’s cheeks colored to rival the tinge of his own beets. “Anything for you, Káno. I...thank you, for what you gave me. I am having a lot of emotions I am far too old to have, yet so it is. For once in my life I am trying to not analyze the whole thing, pick it apart to understand why. Though, this is me, so I do not know how successful that will be,” he chuckled.

“Well, when you think about it, this is your first truly homosexual relationship. You are not under false assumptions, you are not pretending to be something else...you have come to a place of understanding and acceptance for yourself, and here is Maedhros. Not a bisexual person with fluid identity that includes man, woman, and cat, nor an intersex person who tends to lean homosexual but admits that now and then he is not sure because he is also grasping with identity. While I know you and Gildor had a relationship, from all I have heard, it was not exactly a romance.” The words were said as kindly as Findekáno could muster them. “Allow yourself to be giddy and emotional and free. I support both of you. Besides,” he added, “Maedhros is one of the biggest romantics I know. You have every right to feel as you do with him doting upon you, because if it has not happened yet, it will.”

It was not possible to help that Erestor’s heart lurched to hear this. His arms closed tighter around the slender waist. “That makes a lot of sense and I never considered that. It leads into something I think we need to talk about. What you said last night and right now, that me wedding him...that you are not upset with me and that you support us...I really want to believe that is true because I do want this great thing that is new for me and giving me so many wonderful feelings but I am really scared of one thing,” his voice trembled though he tried hard to keep it level. Which did not come easily; the intensity with which he meant his words squeezed the air from his chest. 

“That you might not be honest with me, or him. Because I know you, and I have seen you undermine yourself dozens of times to give someone else what  _ you think  _ will make them happy instead of the actual open communication for which you have been begged. I am terrified that what develops between he and I will cause you to feel overlooked or neglected. It was in the things you said to us in the room. I owe you everything, I have spoken vows to you, and I cannot fail to honor them. I know what you told me before, when we had a very similar conversation about Glorfindel and I remember your answer then. I am saying this because you matter to me more than I am ever going to be able to explain to you and I need to hear your answer. Can you promise me that kind of honesty and not have it be just words? Think very carefully before you answer, love. I will not hold a refusal against you in fact I would respect you all the more for it, if in your heart you believe there is a difficulty.”

“I promise I will try very hard not to withhold anything from you, Cupcake, but...I feel very raw and revealed right now, Eres. You saw me last night, but...people I do not even know saw me, too. They saw something that I thought I had buried deep enough never to surface. That was why I came out here, to think about who to tell, because I think if I encountered certain people right now, I might just blurt things out to them. Maybe it has something to do with feeling empowered. Or, maybe I am still a little drunk from last night,” Findekáno tried to joke. “On the other hand...the people I am closest to I hide the most from. I...cannot speak honestly the words you want to hear, Eres, nor do I know if I ever can, and I know that hurts you to hear from me, but…” And he shook his head and swallowed back the unspoken words.

“Cannot honestly speak that you cannot be honest?” Erestor tilted his head, smiling and hugging Fingon...no, Findekáno, he reminded himself, tightly. “The lyingest piece of shit that ever walked Arda has no right to feel hurt about that, and I do not. It took more courage not to waft a shovelful of that in my direction to put me off. That means more to me. You have integrity; it is more than I ever did. I love you. I will do my best to ask you questions, then, if I think you might be upset because you are feeling left out or...I am fucking up somehow. I am not used to Maedhros and Gildor in my head yet. I have always had giant sweeping trust issues for one, and this is the first time I have found myself bound to someone with higher mental skill levels. If I think you need help, I love you; I am going to do everything I can to help you and so are Maedhros and Glorfindel. You are stuck with us.”

“I got that feeling. So...questions? Maybe it is easier to try to answer questions than try to come up with things to say,” admitted Findekáno.

“Would I make you upset or nervous if I asked you questions about Finya that were tangential to sexuality so that I could understand her boundaries better? Or would it be better to talk about her much later on because it is too new that we know about her at all? I am curious but the worst thing I feel I could do is cause you to discomfort.”

“As I said, I am going to do my best to be open. There may be questions I cannot answer, but I do not necessarily know until you ask them,” said Findekáno.

Erestor looked to the side, unaware that his body had gone stiff with tension. Worry. “It was what you said last night when you cried. That you felt like an impostor as Finya...I am guessing that happens to you some of the time. So I am asking you what I asked Maedhros, because I thought you were stunning and I did not understand. If you do not think your appearance beautiful, what would you need to see in the mirror in order to feel whole?”

Findekáno gave Erestor a tight hug, and then separated himself and took Erestor by the hand. There was a bench inside the large stall, and the horses paid no mind to them sitting down, the task of cleaning wholly abandoned for now. “Last night was the first time I did that in public. Most of the time, in the past, on rare occasions, either I was completely alone or it was not to that extent at all.” Findekáno scratched his jaw. “Maedhros has seen some things...so has Beleg...and my sister…” Findekáno sighed. He ran both hands up over his hair and tried to adjust it, but it looked even messier than before. “No matter what I see, or what other people see, I know what I am underneath. Beneath the reflection.”

“...yourself?” Erestor tried, the brown eyes sincerely lost. Mirrors reminded one of wrongs inside, and there was nothing wrong with Káno.

Findekáno took a deep breath. “I can make myself look the way I feel, and I can get people to say ‘she’, but…” There was shaking of his head, and then he pointed across the stable. “You can take that stallion, and you can geld him, but you can never make him into a mare.” Findekáno’s words were thick and heavy, and he avoided looking at Erestor as he dropped his hand back into his lap.

“If you could choose anything,” Erestor asked slowly, “...anything on the spectrum...to be as you are, or like me, or Glorfindel, or like Glorfindel but with a definitely functioning womb but also a phallus, or a female but like Galadriel; fearsomely strong and tall, able to wield weapons just as a man, or the most ordinary gentle woman, do you know what you would choose? Or would you not be one of us at all, and be of the Ainur and never take on these forms?”

“That is the trouble, Eres. Everything and nothing.” He rubbed his temples. “It is difficult for me to say, to speak of this, because…” Again he shook his head. “Different things on different days. Shit, Eres, there have been a few times when I thought about...do you…” Findekáno kicked at the straw. “Sometimes-I-want-to-be-a-hobbit,” he rushed out before he lost courage. “There is no single answer for me to give to your question.”

Erestor giggled and hugged him tighter. “If I confess something, do you swear you will not tell Glorfindel? I mean, if it slips out it does, just please do not trot it out in the middle of dinner?” he wheedled.

“That is something I can promise,” said Findekáno solemnly.

“So the me speaking with animals thing...there were times when I was lonely. That was my own doing, and being a frightened asshole, but even I needed someone...so I had them. Sometimes I imagined I  _ was _ them. Animals do not exactly always use sounds like we do for speech, there are many different kinds of communication. Sometimes it is in thought only. Anyway, I experienced a lot of different...perspectives but the one that to this day I keep coming back to is...well, wanting to maybe be Bernard. And yet…” Erestor shook his head. “I mean, could I  _ really _ commit to being Bernard? So in my own, uhm, really peculiar way I have some grasp of what you mean, and I am so sorry that the body in which you find yourself is a source of so much distress. I hope that we will find a way through together? Not a magic fix but at least something that lets you be so sure how much love and support is right here with you.”

Findekáno smiled, which...Erestor moved on. “One other question, then I will leave this be. Would you tell me why you did not come back last night? Because...I...while I do not mean to question your personal habits, I do not need remotely that amount of time to do what you said you did.”

“Oh, that. I was going to wait to tell everyone, but you asked. You remember that Harmacullo was told he could stay here as long as he needed? Someone rang the bell when I was downstairs. Gildor and Glorfindel were on the roof, you and Maedhros were on the third floor, Asfaloth was telling stories to Eruglar, so it was just me. I very quickly put some pants on to find Harmacullo’s mother. She asked to speak with him, and she told him that she wanted him to come home. There were some curious words about how his parents understood that it was probably a phase, and working with people who are homosexual would confuse him, and she asked he come back. He agreed; I told him he was welcome to stay, but he just shook his head and left with her, and that was that. You can imagine it had an effect on my libido, and I did not want to ruin your night with that, especially knowing your past,” said Findekáno.

Biting at his lip, it was Erestor’s turn not to say much. His fingers poked at the mess of Findekáno’s bun. “This hairstyle on you is giving me ideas,” he opined. “Like whether you could also be a braided leather headband kind of boy.”

“Uh...I guess we could try,” said Findekáno. “Leather is like ribbons, but...not ribbons. Anyhow, that was why I was not up as quickly as you expected, but I think it was for the best.”

“Alright,” Erestor answered, leaning up for a kiss that promised chasteness and warmth. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Findekáno kissed Erestor’s nose. “Tell me more about this braided headband. I take it you want that for me, not Finya,” he said.

“Mmmmm. Mostly I am being silly and thinking about playing with your hair.  _ It is my inner Bernard,”  _ he whispered, his fingers making writhing motions around Findekáno’s face and tangling up the unruly hair even more with an impish smile.

Findekáno laughed and tried to sit still as a lock of hair flopped into his face. “And who is Bernard again? This is the second time you have mentioned him. Was he a hobbit who could not keep his hands to himself, or one of your pets or Gildor’s pets? Or a pet you stole from Gildor?”

“Tsk!” Erestor murmured. “Bernard was my friend that lived in Eregion, when we were in Middle-Earth. The part you never went to, not so far from where Elrond made his home eventually. He was aquarian and had tentacles. When we would talk he would tell me of the water in the deep cold places, the things he saw, and I knew…” he tapped the side of his head, now quite lost in a memory obviously very important to him …”how he felt, that it was like flying only beneath the surface. The sunlight above scattered like emeralds, and he could listen through the stone…” Blinking, the brown eyes sought Findekáno’s again. “I envied him. A lot.”

“I envy the amount of time you had to explore Middle-earth. I think I might have liked to have had more time to do that, whether more years or just more freedom while I was there,” said Findekáno.

“There were endless politics and things trying to kill us,” Erestor’s face fell. “I was also a total asshole busy pretending I was heterosexual.”

“Kind of like how I have been an asshole pretending to be a ‘good boy’ all these years?” Findekáno kicked at the straw again. “I hope you feel better now, not having to hide that. I do know that I feel better than I have in a while,” said Findekáno carefully. “At least, I did last night until I got past the rush of it happening and realized what I was doing and panicked. It was...something, even if it cannot be everything. Finya on some level is better than nothing at all. And this new development for you and Maedhros feels like another piece of the puzzle being filled in, just like Glorfindel admitting that he still has feelings for Gildor. Our family reminds me of some of the intricate braiding I have seen, weaving together in different patterns, and making it stronger.”

“The rush of freedom,” Erestor smiled, melding closer and caressing along his jawline. “I understand after a fashion and yet not; our experiences have been different. Oddly, my closest small equivalent was the decision to wear the veil. When Fin spoke about Gildor I do not think it registered with me as news, really. There was something between them all that time ago but Gildor...while he was not the one for Glorfindel, neither could he communicate about what  _ was _ there. We were all deep in assorted kinds of denial back then, too busy being victims of ourselves. I am glad you do not want to hide because you are a ray of light to me.”

“I think I am most uncertain about Turgon. Then again, he surprises me sometimes. I feel like I am building a list of people I need to talk to in my head and am ranking them from least likely to walk away to most likely to run off and never want to speak to me again.”

“I hope this includes giving yourself some time to experience Finya openly more than just one evening? I will support whatever you decide to do, I hope you know that. My words are only my advice, I do not mean for opinionated Erestor to come off as though he is telling you what to do.”

“Actually, I was hoping ‘opinionated Erestor’ might help me with something,” said Findekáno. “Now that you have a position of high regard and substantial compensation, I do not need to be the, uh...man of the house? I always hated that term...anyhow. I feel a little less pressure to be in an occupational position that can support three people and all of our animals. With you, Maedhros, and Gildor working, I could probably get away with leaving my full time job. Your position in the library was part time, and I need to fill it. I was thinking of...demoting myself to it? And then they would need to replace me, but I think there are some possibilities of the staff who are there. Working less than half of the hours I have been--because we both know I worked more than my share there--would give me the freedom...would give Finya the freedom to...be, more. Some of the other staff at the Peacock filled me in a little more on what happens there, and I think, while it would not be a significant source of income, I play harp well enough to work there a few hours a week. Or just...be there. Learn...and...just...be around others...help me with words, please,” he finally laughed as he stumbled over them.

“Erestor opines it seems a good idea. Quennar would probably celebrate or something, and I would celebrate knowing you were spending your time in a manner fulfilling to you as a person. Besides, did you not just give me a raise?” he smirked, chocolate eyes twinkling.

Findekáno laughed. “Not I...you work for, what is it, Department of Religion and Faith Studies? But I know they are certainly paying you well; I may not partake in the rumors, but I certainly hear them.”

“No, silly, I meant my previous position. The one in which my talents were being grievously undersomethingified. Then again,” the dark brows knitted in a very fetching frown, “I never can recall if salaries have to do with the position, merit, the staff member, or...you know what? How about we not refer to this discussion. I would hate for it to get out that the newly hired academic lacks administrative acumen.”

“I blame it on lack of breakfast. I had something to settle my stomach before I came out here, but what are your thoughts on helping me to cook up something for the whole household? I thought we could surprise everyone else, since we are both up, and you might want to showcase some of your new culinary skills.”

“With you at my side I cannot fail.” A lovely face gazed upward, batting his eyes. “At least, not if you pay close enough attention.”

“Like a hawk,” teased Findekáno.

“Mmmm. Does that mean if this mouse scuttles off to the house it will be pounced upon?” Erestor ventured, moving back just a little with mischief in his eyes.

“A mouse, eh? Hmm…” Findekáno shifted back but leaned in and whispered, “Better run, little mouse. The game is afoot.”

Laughing freely, Erestor scuttled off, making a terrible job of being quiet but managing passable speed as he gleefully bounced over a waste pile and a few buckets on his way out the door, dark hair streaming behind him. So far, he felt less sore, the aches of last night diminished. Had he ever been in a foot race with anyone here? At one time he considered himself to be a passably decent runner, though his pursuer had a more than slight advantage of owning very long legs. Still it was fun so he ran, the cool grass of morning under his toes and joy he had not felt often enough seeping into his veins with the gentle breeze.

Findekáno made sure to secure the gates in the stable before grabbing a forgotten cloak from a hook at the door. Grasping the two sides once it was over his shoulders, he called out, making hawk noises, while flapping the cloak like wings at his sides.

This only made Erestor giggle more as he ducked around the cottage; he thought Findekáno would simply chase him, and now he wondered if it would end up a bit more like hide-and-seek. Decisions, decisions...pausing for only a few seconds to think about it had him scuttling further around the house. Either way the goal was the kitchen door, and he did not think Káno would commit some lunacy like taking him down from jumping off the rooftop. Then again, there had been that sexually exotic display with Gildor...no, best not think on that...he kept running though the laughter was not helping. At all.

As it turned out, Erestor had some help from nature. The ‘wings’ made it hard for Findekáno to see, and he missed coming too close to a tree. A moment later, with the cloak caught as he still held the cloth, Findekáno slid on the moist grass and landed on his backside. “Hawk down! Hawk down!” he laughed, and flopped back in the grass to catch his breath.

Having heard, Erestor retraced his steps and hurried over; no one needed wet and cold clothing. “If you are unhurt may I help you up or render other assistance?” he offered kindly. “I do not want you to catch a chill. Then no one would supervise me and I would bake hard tack cake for breakfast and then our marriages would be off to a terrible start and Maedhros would flee before I could poison him. We can’t have that.”

Findekáno sat up abruptly. “Poison him? Why would you think such a thing!” He grabbed Erestor around the legs and pulled him down on top of him. “I shall have to hold you here captive to protect him!”

“You know why I would think that,” Erestor giggle-whined. “I am capable of mistaking Glorfindel’s paint for food coloring and I could confuse turpentine with walnut oil, is why. Maedhros definitely needs protection. I think it is working. But you still might catch a chill,” he said reprovingly, booping him on the nose and stealing a kiss to his cheek.

“I am prone to colds,” he admitted. “Though, I really wanted to roll you under me and tickle you until you submitted to me,” he winked.

“Now I feel sort of disappointed, you are using all those sexy words,” Erestor pouted. “How about if I am just irascible while we are cooking and ensure you really want to do that later? But please promise me you will put on dry clothing straightaway?” He tried to tug Findekáno upwards despite being physically incapable of shifting him. That did not stop him from trying harder, despite the ominous series of cracks that came from his spine.

Without warning, Findekáno sprang up and scooped Erestor up into his arms. He spun around with him once, and then began to trot towards the cottage. “I caught the mouse!” he said triumphantly. “I shall nibble on him once I get him to my nest!”

Eyes shining and giggling again, Erestor held onto his neck and felt...so in love.

Findekáno managed to get them into the house, and up the stairs. He did not stop until he reached the room with the oversized bed, where three figures were still nestled under the covers. Maedhros, Gildor, Glorfindel. This meant that Findekáno opted to leap onto the bed, stirring Glorfindel, who was dodged around, only to hop over Gildor and arrive at Maedhros. Just as the redhead was opening his eyes and giving a yawn, Findekáno dropped Erestor (gently) into the bed beside Maedhros. “I brought you a mouse!” he said proudly.

Maedhros seemed to look around for an actual mouse before he began to comprehend that this was symbolic. “Because...you are a cat, Kitten?”

Findekáno was already off of the bed stripping his damp leggings. “Hawk,” he corrected.

“Well, that is a new development,” Maedhros said. He was sitting up lazily, so he was able to look down at Erestor. “Good morning,” he offered. He took Erestor’s hand and kissed it. “Sleep well?”

_ So well. _ He squirmed incrementally closer to the redhead, hoping none of the others would notice his body had already moved on. “Yes, thank you,” he answered politely. “Did you?”

“You were in my dreams last night,” said Maedhros, who seemed content to continue to hold Erestor’s hand.

Suddenly Findekáno, who had opted not to put any clothing back on, landed on the bed on Erestor’s other side in a lounging position. How he had quite flung himself over to manage it the others would never quite figure out. “Details,” was all he said.

“Uh…” Maedhros blushed. “We, uh...watched the sunset under a waterfall.” Additional blushing ensued.

“And?” pressed Findekáno.

“And...then it was dark.” More blushing.

“And?” This time, it was Gildor, peering over like a meerkat. 

“Ah...wh--I…” Maedhros looked up at the ceiling. “There were...certain intimacies of a personal and private nature.”

Erestor’s lips parted in yearning at the mere thought. Shy, not wishing to embarrass Maedhros but feeling obligated to say something, mentioned quietly, “That sounds really nice. Like how beautiful the views were in Imladris.”  _ The view is better right here,  _ he offered privately.

“Leave them alone, you two,” scolded Glorfindel gently. He poked Gildor between the shoulderblades. The next comment was not verbal. 

_ I saw the way you looked at Finya when we came home last night. Be nice--I know how to tease people, too. _

Gildor had the decency to blush.  _ I would never.  _ He looked over his shoulder and gave Glorfindel alone a look that said perhaps he would. He looked back to the others. “Having some fun without us?”

“Cleaning the stables,” answered Findekáno.

“Ew. Pass,” replied Gildor. “Unless that was a euphemism…”

“Literally cleaning shit from stables,” Findekáno clarified.

“No thanks.” Gildor titled his head. “Also not a euphemism?”

Findekáno looked at Maedhros. “He is always like this, I assume.”

“Pretty much,” confirmed Maedhros, happy that he was not the focal point anymore.

Glorfindel traced his fingers along Gildor’s spine, considering. When he succeeded in gaining Gildor’s attention, Glorfindel grasped his jaw and admired his eyes, studying them prior to bestowing a lingering kiss. It was restrained on the scale of possibilities, but spoke of a greater hunger.

Zero hesitation occurred between Glorfindel’s lips touching Gildor’s and Gildor wrapping his limbs around Glorfindel, pulling him close. “I am such an idiot,” he exclaimed when they broke off the kiss to touch foreheads. “All last night, whilst we were sitting on the roof talking about parenting--and hoping the three of you were going to do naughty things in the warm spring out there, which, teases, all three of you,” he scolded, “--I should have read between the lines. You were trying to hint at this. More than hint at this. All of your talk about ‘do you ever imagine what it might have been like if we had stayed together’ or ‘what if we had all sailed at the same time’...and I was worried about how to deal with a small child who has more energy in a day than I have in a week!”

“Welcome to parenting,” called out Maedhros.

“You are sprouting responsibility and I intend to enjoy every moment of it,” Glorfindel purred. “I intend to help you to the extent I am able, if that is welcome. What is that saying? ‘Old age and treachery overcome youth and vigor?’ Something along those lines.” He added a nip to his lower lips for emphasis.

“I always enjoyed your wit and wisdom,” acknowledged Gildor. In a low and sensual voice, eyes smouldering, he added, “Talk wordy to me, darling.”

“The wordy where I tell you about the conquest of very young elves or the wordy where I tell you that my heart is beating a little faster to feel your arms around me again?” He pushed a lock of Gildor’s hair behind his ear. “I never told you what it meant to me, that day in the theater, when I was beyond fucked up, and then you were there. I was scared shitless and I truly believe that I only pulled through because it was you. Your father said something to me and though I did not want to believe him, he has an annoying habit of being right. Either way I have missed this and I want it back, Inglorion.”

“Mmmm...no one ever calls me Inglorion quite like you do…” Gildor pulled Glorfindel closer. “I missed so many things about being with you. Obviously, I have a wonderful husband, but, as we have all learned...we hunt together better as a pack. Or...a clowder, if we are more like cats?” 

“Kittens,” corrected Maedhros.

  
“Yes but we all know Inglorion is the peacock wildcat. Or is it the wildcat peacock? And so really there are two peafowl among us of sorts, so...you know what, I am not going to overthink this; flock, clowder, we are still all fabulous,” Glorfindel concluded, waggling his finger in the air to distract Gildor and stealing another kiss the moment he stared at it. “Where were we?”

“You know, if you put clowder and flock together, you get--”

“No,” warned Maedhros.

“--cock,” said Gildor happily before he could be stopped.

Maedhros sighed and glanced at Findekáno.

“I am not going to be part of a...not even saying it. Clowder or flock, not...the other thing.”

“Cock,” announced Gildor again.

Findekáno rolled his eyes and flopped onto his back. “Right. Not that.”

“You are on your way to earning a spanking, dearheart,” Maedhros said. He pointed at Gildor in case there was any question. “And in your case, there will be no Erestor to take your place.” Gildor tilted his head in confusion.

“Awwwwww!” Disappointment rose up from underneath the mass of disheveled inky hair that had become quite a tangled mess.

“Sweetness, all you need to do is ask,” Maedhros reminded Erestor as he sorted through the mass of hair in order to place his hands on Erestor’s cheeks and lean down to kiss him. “Does someone need a spanking?” he drawled.

“Maedhros, there is something you really ought to just understand,” Glorfindel smiled. “If he had his way, he would spend his waking existence being spanked and fucked.”

The room was silent for a moment.

“You say that like it is a problem, Fin,” Erestor sniffed. “I always made it to work on time.”

“True,” Glorfindel sighed. They just were not something he wanted to dole out constantly, and they both accepted that. “Well, his answer is yes, but you might have to be careful. He has never had someone who would indulge him without limits. Someone should make sure he does not become too bruised, because he will not.”

“Oh...I know how to watch for the limits of others.” Maedhros cleared his throat and sat up a little. He poked a foot at Gildor and nudged his elbow at Findekáno.

“No idea what you are talking about,” denied Findekáno.

Gildor laughed, then spread an arm up with flair. “Guilty!” he admitted.

“I think, if all of you are going to engage in kissing and spanking and so on, I am going to go downstairs and start baking. Our guest will be here for tea before we know it,” Findekáno reminded all of them.

“Which was my big idea,” Erestor admitted guiltily. “As much as I would like to be at least kissed I should help you, or try to. I do not want to seem to be begging off but my body is not saying much that is kind to me after my short frolic this morning and I should be responsible.”

Fingon was already halfway to the door. “Take a few minutes, get it out of your systems,” he told them all with a smirk. “Otherwise, I worry there will be suggestively cut cheese slices on the trays.”

“I am not that bad,” Erestor protested.

Four pairs of eyes stared back at him with raised eyebrows.

Rolling his eyes, Erestor sighed and moved enough hair out of his face to see Maedhros clearly. “I am asking for you to get it out of my system. Please. All of it.” He moved so that his phallus was very clearly outlined to Maedhros underneath his sleeping pants. “Then I will try to act my age, whatever that even means.”

Maedhros ran his nose along Erestor’s neck. “Go over there and grab the top of that chair. Then, with your hands on it, take a half step back and spread your legs apart and wait for me.” He turned to Glorfindel and Gildor as Erestor hopped out of the bed faster than anyone expected him to after his complaints regarding his physicality. “Get ready for a show, boys,” Maedhros told them as he made a show of cracking his knuckles.

Findekáno frowned and opened the door. “Try not to wake up the child,” he offered as advice on his way out.

Erestor did grab the chair, biting his lip as one of the muscles in his back spasmed in protest. Twisting with a gasp, he found a position that allowed him to breathe through the fiery discomfort behind his shoulder. This is what he got for keeping on listening to little Erestor but Maedhros made little Erestor feel so fucking good. He held on tighter, and waited.

From Gildor’s collection, Maedhros retrieved the two sizes of toys and a full bottle of oil. He set all three items on the seat of the chair where Erestor could see them and then went around the room, surveying items. “Only have a few minutes...what to use? A book? Nice and firm...or a belt? They snap so nicely when they crack against someone’s ass,” commented Maedhros. “If only we had brought some of those kitchen utensils up last night…”

_ I liked the way your hand felt,  _ Erestor smirked to himself, not about to contribute.  _ Books are too yielding and belts lack surface area. Really I am surprised at you, Maedhros. I had the impression you had better expertise than this. It is true nothing is like a good spatula but those are downstairs as you so astutely observe. Tsk tsk well however shall you solve your dilemma, my prowling lion?  _ He had to keep biting his lip, both to stifle all the smartass things in his head from coming out of his mouth and the noises of pain from his back, that was really determined to be a total asshole this morning. 

Slowly, Maedhros pivoted in place--likely a move he had learned from either watching or practicing with Findekáno. He said nothing, no words, no thoughts shared, as he closed in on his prey. He came to stand in front of the chair. His gaze moved from Erestor very purposefully down to the toys left on the seat. “I was going to start with the smaller one,” he said as he picked up the slightly thicker of the two toys, “but you just earned yourself a promotion.” Maedhros held it right in front of Erestor’s face and drizzled the oil on it from the top to let it slide and drip down, some of it running down his hand and hitting the seat of the chair.

In the bed, Glorfindel and Gildor, still touching and snuggling each other, were propped up with pillows now so that they could watch. Gildor let a hand wander under the covers. “Can I...give you a hand?” he questioned Glorfindel as he suggestively rubbed his thigh.

“Oh honey, yours was the first hand, the hand to which all others were compared,” he whispered. “While my love took root in other places, you never suffered in my memory for skill. I would like that very much.” That glorious smile flashed briefly at Gildor before Glorfindel sent his own fingers wandering in a different direction; teasing along the base of his spine and the top of his cleft.

Gildor grinned and moved immediately to his target. “Gildor Inglorion, at your service,” he said happily as he began to stroke Glorfindel, one eye on the scene on the other side of the room.

Maedhros used one finger of his other hand to spread the oil around all of the bumps and curves of the toy in his hand. “Now, this is going to hurt you a lot more than me, but just remember--you earned this,” he said in a voice so low it was doubtful their partners in the bed could hear. He walked around behind Erestor and teased his entrance with just the tip of the toy.

“Mmmm you seem to think I could have forgotten your name,” Glorfindel sassed, taking a moment to acquire a large volume of spit and place it just where he wished it to go in a swift and stealth movement that had Gildor’s cheeks apart for a split-second, sleight of hand accomplished while his throat was licked and suckled, but not hard enough to mark him. Before Gildor really knew what had happened, Glorfindel was pressing and circling with two fingers as though he meant to penetrate but did not. Amused, the golden beauty enjoyed the instantaneous transformation of Gildor’s features. He was no longer the relative innocent of so long ago; in the time of their long marriage he and Erestor had (at least, they thought) tried hard to master the arts of pleasure. Hopefully he had at least a few delights Gildor had not yet encountered, or a fresh delivery. One way to find out…

Erestor pressed back, wondering. He wanted to keep quiet.  _ That is probably why it is not the best choice,  _ something inside moved him to reason. Chewing his lip just another second more, he made a decision.  _ Maedhros? I want what you are planning to do. But...if something were really wrong, you would want to know?  _ The question was uncertain, hesitant.

_ This is an act. I was just going to make you think I was going to use this, and then tell you you were too naughty for it, and do this instead.  _ Maedhros tossed the toy back onto the chair and gave Erestor’s rear three firm strikes. They were a little harder than the previous night, but not by much.  _ I thought we were...posturing. I...yes, I want you to tell me if something is wrong.  _ He rubbed his hand over Erestor’s rear while awaiting a response.

“Uhhhhnnnnnnhh” Erestor groaned appreciatively, breathing a little strangely at the end of it.  _ Something happened to my back when I came over here and it hurts, a lot, but if I stay in this one position I can manage better. The spanking is still good, but I thought you would be displeased if I did not tell you. _

_ Very displeased. We are not staying here. Spanking is postponed. What will be best for your back--the bed, or a warm soak? _

_ I...have never had this happen before. Maybe the bed? This may be selfish of me but I wonder if you could love me, and rub where it hurts? Maybe press your elbow against it? I really do not know what to do but there is just the general theory that sex makes everything better? Help. _

_ I like your theory. And the bed is big enough for all of us.  _ Maedhros swept Erestor up in his arms and kissed his nose. He nuzzled Erestor’s hair and whispered directly into his ear, “And I really, really enjoyed making love to you.” He kissed Erestor’s nose and carried him to the bed.

In the bed, the happenings across the room were mostly missed. Gildor was almost in Glorfindel’s lap. “You do realize, for all my talk over the years, if we had ever actually bonded, you would have had to have been the dominant one, because I am a hopeless bottom in bed.”

“I have heard some rumors. I hope you are open to discussion? I am able to be dominant sometimes but I prefer to be submissive. The truth is, I am ecstatic that Maedhros and Erestor have found each other in this way because while I love Eres to pieces, I know that our differing needs placed an unfair strain on him. This actually sounds really interesting. Like from what I have heard, the more reliably dominant ones of the five of us are Mae and Fingon...but Fingon is very unpredictable concerning when he feels sexual and it is unfair to place him in the proverbial rotation.” To emphasize his words, he luxuriously circled Gildor’s entrance several times. “Get it? Rotation? So of all of us, there is a lot more interest in those wanting to submit than be dominated, and you really strongly want to be bottomed. What about fucking while you are being fucked? Yes? No? Ambivalent? Inquiring minds want to know.”

“Mmmm...I really just want to be the fuckee, and not the fucker, although, from the names I have been called in my life, a lot of people seem to think the opposite,” replied Gildor. “I am at the bottom of the sexual food chair. Stick a dick, or two, in my mouth or up my ass, and I am absolutely overjoyed.”

“Better just be one of the dicks in this household--and when have you ever had two up your ass before?” questioned Maedhros possessively as he massaged Erestor’s back, wanting to work out the worst of the kinks before thinking of other kinks with his new mate.

“Hypothetical dicks, my love,” promised Gildor. “Yours plus phallus equals...mmm, I like that, Fin...equals two dicks. Or, your hand. That is practically two dicks right there. Maybe three. I am so out of my mind when you do that my ratios could be off.”

Glorfindel shook with laughter from ‘hypothetical dicks’ onward as did Erestor, except for him all the wrong anatomical structures were jostled. The most interesting giggle-howl of pain arose from his poor husband but Glorfindel felt really determined that this discussion continue. “Now, wait, Gildor.” For a moment he held his fingers still to ostensibly allow for clarity of thought. “I get that you want to be the fuckee. But what if it was a group effort going on at some future time? You just admitted you go out of your head under the right sort of anal ministrations. So are you saying you would be repulsed if the right asshole just happened to capture your cock if you were, say, blindfolded or something? I mean, is it really that different than being sucked off? You like that, do you not? Or do you? This is important academic stuff, here. I need to understand the nuances.”

“Oh, no no no, I thought about this already,” Gildor said with authority, as if he was a scholar before a group of fellow intellectuals. “There is only one possible arrangement where all of us are in one long fuck-serpent arrangement, and I am most certainly--well, two arrangements, but...well, we can get to that variable in a moment. So, naturally, I am in the front, the one being only fucked, not fucking. Mae Mae is behind me, and Fingon in the middle, followed by you, because we all know that Fingon likes the least amount of anything possible up his bum, and while you have probably thought of your dimensions as a drawback, trust me, when it comes to getting a chance to fuck the high king, take the shot and call it an advantage. And that leaves Erestor at the back, which is good, because, well, Erestor darling, I say this with the greatest amount of sympathy, if five men are all in a fuck puddle together, your back will appreciate being the one on the other end.”

“My husband, everyone,” Maedhros said with a shake of his head as he dug his elbow into a spot Erestor had previously responded well to when he used the palm of his hand.

“This makes it sound like a fuck ourobouros is out of the question,” Erestor sighed.

“I know,” Glorfindel said sadly. “That was where I was kind of going with the idea, because beautiful Mae seemed open to possibilities. But I respect you, Gildor, and your needs. Desires and turnoffs are what they are. Like how I cannot cope with being restrained, still. Even when I wish I could. I cannot get past my feelings. We are all different, and I love you.” Leaning in, he kissed the side of the very fair head. “May these fingers go past the door?”

“They better, you merciless tease!” Then Gildor tilted his head. “Wait...wait, wait, wait, I think...oh! Oh,  _ I _ need to be the one to sit out! I think…not now, fingers, ass, please...I think better in the middle of sex. My best ideas, always during intercourse.”

“Define intercourse,” Glorfindel posed, three of his fingers immediately diving for the region triangulating around Gildor’s prostate, where he proceeded to drum out little harmonies only he knew all around the little organ without actually touching it. Yet.

“Hhhhnnnnn...oooooo...so! Circle fucking. You need forty-two people for a circle where no one has to stretch too much or hurt themselves. Because, everyone has to fuck at a slight angle, and anything more than about eight to ten degrees is not typically pleasur...a….blllluuuuuuuhhhh so good, Fin...sooooo goood. This means, about forty-two at eight and a...ahhhh...a….a half...mmmmm.”

“So, we need thirty-seven more friends,” spoke up Maedhros.

“Thirty-seven more friends we actually want to see naked, want to fuck like this, and...uuufff...we want to have somewhere in the mix.” Gildor began to play with his nipples with one hand and his balls with the other. “But, I think you could do something else with just four.”

“Ress, he knew the math. Like, the exact number.”

“He did indeed, Fin. But that was the risk we took.”

“That he would out-math us?”

“Pretty much. I mean, I confess I am impressed enough to think he deserves a treat for that.”

“Same here. What we talked about earlier?”

“Yep.”

“Very fair. You have not lost your edge, mister wildcat. Can I keep you?” Glorfindel kissed him softly, gently exploring the edges of his mouth and the long-missed taste of him while the pads of his fingers now shifted to long strokes over the prostate, knowing that Gildor could take quite a lot of internal exploration...but he preferred to begin slow, and keep his wildcat guessing. “You are beautiful, Gildor,” he kissed the tip of his nose, smiling. “But you knew that.”

“Obviously. I only surround myself with beautiful people. We have to stick together,” declared Gildor. “Now, four people...I think it can work if, instead of standing up, everyone is on their side, like a pinwheel. It would have to be a little slower to keep everyone connected, but if you had me conducting, I could adjust everyone as needed so that--oh, a treat?” His brain finally caught the idea that there was a treat in store for him for all of his explaining of sex physics. “I like treats, and I have been a very, very good boy. Right, Daddy?” he asked Maedhros, who shook his head. “Dammit, sorry, forgot, no Daddy talk unless we are alone.”

“I do not mind,” Erestor said. “Or is Master only Master when we are alone too?”

“I think we need to ask others what they are comfortable with. Gildor?”

Gildor was undulating a bit, dancing while sitting on Glorfindel’s lap, and generally, being Gildor. “If I can call you Daddy in front of him, he can call you Master. Glorfindel?”

“Is that what my prince wishes?” Glorfindel smiled, eyes hazy with barely hidden envy. “Your humblest follower is ever at your service and none of this bothers me.” 

“So, just...avoid discussion around Fin. I mean, Fingon. Or Finya. Is anyone else as confused as I am about what name to use and when now?” asked Maedhros. “I feel like everything is merging together.”

“No. It is simple. Fingon is done. Cancelled. Discarded. Now it is Findekáno or Finya, depending on who is with us as to gender expression,” Erestor told him.

Maedhros furrowed his brow. “What happened to Fingon?”

“It does not matter,” replied Erestor. “When we were in the stable, he told me that he does not want to be called Fingon anymore. Findekáno or Finya, and Káno if we are unsure.”

“No Fingon,” repeated Maedhros again.

“No.” This came from both Erestor and Gildor. Gildor continued with, “He hated the Sindarized form of his name.”

“He never told me that,” Maedhros said a little more gruffly than intended. “It just...for me, it is going to take some time. When he, uh, retrieved...rescued me, and I clung to him, and I called him Findekáno, as he held my bleeding limb and kept us on that Eagle, he told me firmly, no, it was Fingon now. And...sorry, I am killing the mood,” Maedhros apologized.

“Oh…” Erestor sighed. “Maedhros I am sorry.” Discomfort be damned, he tried to turn and embrace his husband, but a powerful arm held him in place.

Glorfindel gave a crooked smile. “Stay where you are and do not make your back worse, Ress. He sees your love.” Feeling sorry for Findekáno more than anyone, he poured his emotion into Gildor’s prostate, reasoning that someone should sail on unaffected. Adjusting his position a little, he cradled the long body into a slightly more ideal position that allowed him to fondle more of the stunning anatomy and carried on.

Gildor purred happily, but the discussion was not to be finished just yet. “I think my Uncle Eddi would tell you to talk to him, Maedhros.”

“But I--”

“He would say,” spoke Gildor louder, cutting off Maedhros for the first time either Erestor or Glorfindel could recall, “that this is not about you, this is about Findekáno, but you need to tell him how you are feeling, too. You can be a little uncomfortable now, or a lot uncomfortable for a long time. Your choice.” Gildor looked at Glorfindel. “For the record, I am feeling a whole lot really comfortable.” He winked at him.

“For what it is worth I second what Gildor just said, love,” Erestor wheezed when he moved the wrong way and the accursed muscle grew fangs and bit him (or at least felt like it). “He does need to hear this; sheltering him from something this deep in your psyche is not a great idea.”

“Shitty idea,” Glorfindel confirmed. “We promised each other that was going to stop. We do not always succeed but when we identify it we try hard not to sit on it. I still have some feelings about how it took two total strangers to bring Finya out but I am digesting that a little and then I was going to talk to Gildor. Or at least that was my loose plan.”

“Out in public, yes, but I have known Finya longer than some of you have been alive.” Maedhros took a deep breath. He let it out slowly. “Alright, well, that seems like...that goes on the discussion list.”

“We need Uncle Eddi here. He can help. I can contact my parents, let them know, see when he can come over...but I am going to be really selfish right now and finish this before I do that. Contacting my parents when I am in the middle of sex is weird, even for me,” said Gildor.

“Tell me what you like inside and I will try my best to give it to you,” Glorfindel cuddled him with plenty of kisses. “And...Mae, I...need to explain what I meant better about Finya because I just realize how my words sounded and I apologize but...I think I should do one thing at a time before I do both badly. First Gildor. Need a happy wildcat.” Bending over, he made a very loud smooch to his cheek, grinning.

“You know what I like, honey--everything.” Gildor pushed back against the intrusion. “No need to be gentle. But you know that.”

“Alright, dearheart. One orgasm, coming up.” Relaxing, Glorfindel set his sensitive fingers to their task.

_ Are you alright, Maedhros? If I may not hug you will you talk to me? I cannot match what that moment must have been because he did not save me from the kind of suffering you experienced. I had a nicer stay in Angband than you, I am ashamed to say. But Káno did save both of us; I would have died without his intervention and love and I feel such a bond of...like he purchased a part of my soul by what he did for me and I repay him in love. So maybe I have some small idea of how his words must feel in your ears; I love you and I will support you in any way I can. I love you. _

_ I love you, too.  _ A teardrop hit Erestor’s back, and Maedhros wiped it away. “Erestor, I am...I am sorry, I may not be able to, uh, deliver. I can use my mouth on you, if you would like, though. How is your back?”

_ No – that can wait for another time. My back still hurts but I think it is a job for Gildor, to ask what happened or what to do. Please let me up to hold you or lie with me? I want to comfort you more than anything. _

Maedhros joined Erestor without hesitation, pulling him closer once they were beside one another. “This is nice. Thank you.” Maedhros kissed Erestor’s cheek. “Guess we are the ones getting a show, eh?” He nodded in the direction of Gildor and Glorfindel.

“Eh,” Erestor chuckled. “I have never been a good Thranduil, though I appreciate Gildor’s abandonment. I loved that about him. So unaffected, so in the moment, so free. Everything I was utterly incapable of being, when I was with him long ago. I am so glad you found him, and he found you. I never could have imagined that one day, we would have this. That I would have this,” he said shyly. “I still cannot believe that I am blessed to be yours, Maedhros. And that you are with Findekáno, and that somehow he claimed me before you when it was always he and you, and...I thank Eru for this. For us. All of us.” He pressed his lips chastely against those of Maedhros in an abundance of love.

He was gently tucked closer. “I keep expecting to awaken from a dream. First Fing..dekano, and now you. This has been a very satisfying week.” He flexed his right hand. “Who knew a vacation could turn into a series of life-changing decisions?”

“Ugh...technically...ughn...my father did.”

Maedhros, who had closed both eyes, cracked one open and looked over to Gildor, who was very close to finding his release. “Oh?”

“You...mmmm...you told me...yesss, Fin, so good...not to tell you prophecies.”

Maedhros watched as Gildor bounced and twisted and flailed about and came with a bit of a shout. Only after giving his husband a few moments to catch his breath as Glorfindel cleaned him off did Maedhros ask, “What did he say?”

“Hmm? Oh...umm...something to the effect of ‘sooner than you think’ when I told him ‘see you soon’ before we left, and I teased him that my parents kept saying they did not feel like a holiday when we encouraged them to come with us, and my father dropped a hint about how he would take care of my menagerie as long as--wait, if he is here, who is taking care of my babies?” Gildor extracted himself and hurried off to the closet to apparently have a long-distance conversation with his father.

Maedhros waited for Gildor to retreat before he looked up at Glorfindel. “I am not entirely sure what his thoughts are, but should the two of you ever desire it, it would be hypocritical of me not to extend the same as you did to me regarding Erestor.” He seemed to hesitate a moment before he added, “I have known, since before he and I decided to bond, that you were always special to him. There were even a few times when he called your name out instead of mine--I was never upset. Amused, really...I even joked with him that I was going to buy a blond wig for myself. I do not know exactly his feelings, but I know that while I can feel he loves you all, there is a strong romantic attachment he still feels for you, Glorfindel.”

No more could be discussed on this topic, for Gildor emerged from the closet. He skipped back to the bed and gave Glorfindel a passionate kiss. “I should not have doubted my father, but he assured me all of my darling pets are being well cared-for. Auntie Cali is taking care of them.”

“Is that Amarië’s sister?” queried Erestor. “I met her a few times in my youth...I think she went by Cali sometimes.”

“Yes, Ilmacalina,” confirmed Maedhros. “That is very nice of her. We will need to get her a present while we are here.”

“Mmm, good smells from the kitchen...if we can smell it all the way up here, that means Fingon is in the thick of it. We should go and help him. Findekáno. Dammit. If you need more time to rest, though, Erestor--” Maedhros began to offer.

“No. This is my guest. Even if all I can do is sit at the table and cut vegetables, I want to be useful,” said Erestor. “I might still need your help getting down to the first floor, and I might not make it back up here very easily.”

“I will carry you wherever you need me to,” vowed Maedhros. He gave Erestor another peck on the cheek, and then got them both ready to join everyone downstairs. 

“You have potatoes, right? Why am I asking that--of course you do, I helped find them out in the garden,” Gildor said. “Baked potato, wrapped in a cloth. It makes an amazing remedy for sore muscles, and, you get to eat it when you feel better.”

“That sounds lovely,” Erestor said as he was lifted from the bed. He nuzzled against Maedhros. “Sorry about earlier.”

Maedhros kissed his brow. “No worries,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes. “We can stockpile spankings for later when you feel up to it. Good practice for me relearning how to use my hand,” he added with a grin.

“Just make sure to save a few for me,” Gildor said with a pout.

“Gildor--I have two hands,” Maedhros reminded him.

“Mmm...double spanking competition. Now, that would work with three people minimum,” brainstormed Gildor as he held the door open. 

“Down, boy,” Glorfindel said. “You and I need to go out and wash up before we go to the kitchen,” he reminded Gildor.

“Good point. I keep talking like this and it will just delay us further.” Gildor stood on his tiptoes as Maedhros came to the door. “See you soon, Daddy,” he told him, and then gave him a kiss on his chin. 

Maedhros stooped down to claim a proper kiss. His reply was slightly different than expected. “Thank you,” he said sincerely. He glanced to the man in his arms just in case Gildor did not know what he was referring to.

Gildor put his arms around both of them, then motioned for Glorfindel to join in the hug as well. They stood together in the doorway until they heard Findekáno shout, “Asfaloth, you cannot eat ALL of the sugar, just some of the--no, I need that, Eruglar! Cocoa powder is NOT chocolate!”

“We better go help him,” came Erestor’s muffled voice from the center of the embrace.

“Or at least extract children and horses,” said Gildor as they headed down the hallway.


	10. Chapter 10

“Káno, I swear, no one is going to look at the table legs,” insisted Maedhros as he set another tray of food prepared by Gildor and Glorfindel on the table in question.

“You never know. If conversation breaks off, people are accustomed to stop making eye contact, and then what will they look at?” questioned Findekáno from where he was crouched on the floor fretting over his work. 

“Uh…” Maedhros glanced around the room. “Glorfindel’s paintings?”

“After that.”

“All of this ancient pottery?”   
  


“After that.”

“The view out the windows?”

Findekáno bolted up and waved the rag at Maedhros’ nose. “Eventually, they will see the dust!”

Maedhros tried to suppress his smile, but failed. Findekáno rolled his eyes and was going to move to the next offensively dusty piece of furniture, but Maedhros took hold of him by the shoulders. “Darling, the dust cannot all be found before he arrives, and he is not going to judge your ability to do menial labor. Besides, you risk chipping your nails, my dear.” He lifted Findekáno’s hand and kissed it, only to make a face. “Ulch, you have some sort of cleaner on that rag,” he realized.

“Of course I do. Because I am cleaning. Go rinse your mouth out before you get sick,” advised Findekáno. He was about to move to another table when a firm knock sounded on the main doors. “He is early!” he hissed.

“Better let him in. I need to rinse my mouth out.” Maedhros stole the rag from Findekáno’s hands. “I will let the others know they should come out. You should wash your hands before you eat any of the finger foods, after you get the door,” Maedhros said as he retreated.

A second knock came upon the door. Findekáno nervously tapped his foot, hoping Gildor or Glorfindel might rush out of the kitchen to let their guest in, but when a third knock sounded, followed by the pulling of the corded bell, Findekáno rushed to the hallway. 

Dog Dog was already there, barking at the unopened door, and Eruglar was almost to the knob. “Stop!” shouted Findekáno, and he reflexively scooped up the boy without even thinking about it. “We do not open doors if we do not know who is on the other side,” he warned as he held the child at eye-level, legs and arms dangling as a ragdoll.

“Oh, but Daddy said we had a guest for tea, and my tummy is grumbling for sweet cakes,” Eruglar answered.

Findekáno set the lad back down. “Unless you know for certain, you should never open the door if you are not tall enough to look the people outside in the eye.”

His hand was on the knob when Eruglar said, “So, Glorfindel does not get to open doors, either? Because Glorfindel is  _ short. _ ”

Findekáno paused and looked down. “We will talk about this later.” He motioned for Eruglar to step back as the bell rang again. Hastily, Findekáno opened the door. “Sorry about that,” he apologized. “Just having an impromptu lesson on strangers and opening doors. This is Eruglar, Gildor’s son. Gildor should be out soon for you to meet him--Maedhros’ husband. Eruglar, this is Father Élarminë.”

“Another Daddy?” asked Eruglar incredulously.

“No, child, Father is a title of respect for those in my profession. I am a cleric and prophet at a temple in the town center,” explained Élarminë.

“Ohhhh...religious stuff,” Eruglar reasoned. “Daddy said it is a lot of smoke and mirrors and fairy stories.”

“Ah.” Élarminë continued to smile as Findekáno managed a paler shade than his already fair complexion. “And your Daddy is espoused to Maedhros?”

“Uh-huh. That makes him my other Daddy. I get two daddies instead of a mommy because I have a mommy but she has issues. At least, that was what my uncle told me. That was before I came to live with the--oh, sorry, I cannot say that word,” Eruglar whispered.

Élarminë crouched down. “What word, young one?”

Before Findekáno could cease the discussion, Eruglar happily shouted, “The faggots! And this is the King fo the Faggots,” he declared as he pointed up at Findekáno.

As Élarminë stood, Findekáno was already apologizing. “I am so sorry. His uncle taught him some unfortunate things, and that--”

“You told me you were the King of the Faggots,” Eruglar reminded him.

“Oh, my. Yes, well, unfortunate phrasing on our part and disagreements on reclamation of words...completely our fault, the adults here. We have had discussions on why that is inappropriate, and I thought we were past this, and I--”

“It could be worse,” Élarminë said. Behind him and to the side, there were some soft noises, perhaps some laughter or clearing of a throat, and he made a motion. “I must apologize. I actually brought some guests with me, and must ask forgiveness for bringing them uninvited. My brother and his husband. Oh, but I think you know them already,” he said.

Ninquitar peeked around the corner. “Hello, Sugar,” he greeted. “We brought extra cake,” he added as he held up a blue and silver frosted multilayered torte on a tray with a crystal lid. 

It suddenly dawned on Findekáno. “That is why the two of you look so similar.”

“Ninquitar was still up when I came home and he started to tell me what happened last night. Of course, my calling means discretion, so I could not say much, but I offered one name, and I knew that he and Manyanar should accompany me today.” Élarminë was holding a cake as well, this one with fresh strawberries and whipped cream. Eruglar was eyeing up this cake specifically when Gildor arrived at the door with Erestor. 

“Glorfindel will be out with the tea and the rest of the food shortly. Maedhros said to remind you to wash your hands,” Gildor said as he gave Findekáno a nudge.

“Excuse me, please.” Findekáno ducked around Erestor, who was hastily sweeping a scarf up over his head. While helping to cut cubes of fruit and place them on skewers in an artful presentation, he had not had his hair covered, but now with guests about to enter he did not worry that the orange scarf he had grabbed clashed with the green and brown garments he was wearing. The hasty movements did cause him to wince a little over his back, and he moved slower to reach the door.

“Gildor Inglorion--at your service! Please, come in, come in,” invited Gildor, holding the door wider so that their guests could enter. “Eruglar, would you like to show them where the great room is? Er...actually, have you washed your hands recently?” asked Gildor.

“Yes! Right before Dog Dog licked them dry for me!”

“Go follow Uncle Findekáno and wash them again. Dog Dog--sit!” commanded Gildor before the canine could go to ‘help’ again. “Make sure you scrub under your nails, too!” he added.

“Yes, Daddy!” called out Eruglar as he leaped in the direction of the washroom.

“No running!” added Gildor. “Kids,” he said with a smile to the others.

“Please come inside,” Erestor warmly welcomed them, ushering them through the archway of the first room and into the larger room, toward furniture. “I would tell you that it is not always like this but that would be a serious attempt at deception.”

“Erestor! Erestor! You promised more sugar cubes in the bowl for me!” Asfaloth rushed up, knocking his knuckles together. Someone had placed a few sprays of delicate blue flowers in his hair, which had a waterfall braid down one side. The effect, so close to his huge, limpid eyes, significantly enhanced his already striking appearance. “Oh! Hello, new people who came for tea. Tea without sugar cubes.” His bottom lip protruded as far as he could make it go.

“I…” Erestor sighed. “Asfaloth, please meet Élarminë, his brother Ninquitar, and Ninquitar’s husband Manyanar. I will refill the bowl when our guests have been made comfortable but the guests have to have a chance to use the sugar cubes first, okay? Else you are right, there will be tea without sugar cubes. But I know Glorfindel has extra carrots for you and we will find out where they are.”

“Oh…” the knuckles knocked together despondently. “Okay, Erestor. I will go back to the kitchen.” 

“Maybe I can offer to escort Ninquitar in that direction as well?” Gildor suggested. “To add this stunning baked delight to the cart of Findekáno’s offerings?”

“Certainly.”

As everyone assembled in the great room, Manyanar stayed back. When Eruglar and Findekáno approached, the boy was left to run ahead, and Manyanar stalled Findekáno. “How are you today?”

“Uhm…” Findekáno looked to the doors that would lead them to the others. “How are you doing?”

“I am well. Perhaps after tea we could speak privately somewhere?”

Findekáno nodded slowly as his name was called. “You should see the tiny sandwiches Gildor and Glorfindel made--and all of the vegetables are grown by Erestor in the garden. I worried they made too much, but it is lovely to have you and Ninquitar here to help us eat it all.” As an afterthought, Findekáno linked an arm with Manyanar and brought him into the great room with the others.

Erestor seated himself, studying his two guests, a shy smile on his face. “This...is really unanticipated for me. I prepared my mind for the honored Father Élarminë to come, and am now also digesting that Ninquitar and Manyanar would maybe have seen Maedhros and I dance yesterday? Which, um, feels like a study in contrasts just now,” he laughed, blushing a little. “I did not foresee this connection but I am glad of it.”

“The Lord made our bodies for many things, dance among them,” said Élarminë. “And please, we need not use titles here or I shall feel compelled to use ‘sir’ and ‘highness’ as appropriate, and are we not friends? My, what a delightful selection of teas--I can detect cinnamon, and chamomile, and what else is here? Erestor, do you grow and dry your own blends for tea?”

“I grow many herbs and flowers but I have always left it to Glorfindel and Káno to do more. I do not have any sense of taste or smell. Only recently have I begun learning to cook with any success, after finally discovering this limitation. Maybe I will be able to learn that too?”

“None at all?” asked Ninquitar, who had entered with Dog-Dog trotting after him while Erestor was explaining his sensory deprivation. “That sounds like...oh, what was her name? The one who sat at the bar all the time, until she got into a fight and bit one of the servers and we had to excuse her from the establishment. Wish I could recall her name. You know who I mean?” asked Ninquitar.

Manyanar nodded. “I know who you are talking about. But that was because of all of the drugs she was on. She barely knew what day it was sometimes.”

“Quite right. Sometimes she thought I was an actual giant peacock and tried to feed me seeds from her palm,” Ninquitar added. “It was cute the first three or four times, but it got ridiculous when she started throwing handfuls of seeds at me when I walked by. Got one in my eye once. So, how bad is it? Can you taste anything?”

“Sometimes, certain flavors, but they have to be strong, like licorice. I cannot tell spoiled milk from fresh, or one herb from another, or water from vinegar,” Erestor said, but the mention of the drugs dismayed him. “I took many drugs. But I think I had this problem even before the drugs...though now I am unsure.”

Glorfindel, who was seated next to Erestor, whispered to him, “You could tell things in Gondolin. Fish that was too salty, wine that was sour--that night we ate the tiny cheesecakes we pilfered from Salgant’s party, you could taste those.”

“Even after,” commented Gildor as a memory came back to him. “The first night I got you and the other refugees out of Gondolin, you refused to eat the boar I roasted because you said it smelled like...burning people.” He looked down at the ground. “Well, do we know how to start a party, or what?” he said to their guests.

“I do not want to eat roasted boar, either, if it smells like people,” announced Eruglar in solidarity.

Erestor smiled and ruffled Eruglar’s hair. “Maybe not everyone would agree. But what I am hearing is that maybe I did damage my body through drug use. That is something I only stopped very recently. Maybe it can heal someday, or not. I do not know. We have a healer with us and we can ask.”

“That is an Elrond question, not a me question. Too bad he already went back to the mainland,” sighed Gildor.

“What about Edrahil? Fingon--er, sorry, Findekáno, did Felagund give any indication how long they were staying?” asked Maedhros.

Findekáno shrugged. “Can I get tea for anyone?” He was the only person still standing, hovering over the serving cart.

“Yes, please,” said Élarminë. “Whatever that delightful cinnamon blend is, thank you, with just a little milk or cream if you have it. So, some of you were in Gondolin? That is fascinating,” he said.

“Wha’s Gondolin?” queried Ninquitar. He was on his second cucumber sandwich, half of which was in his mouth presently.

Élarminë gave a ‘please forgive his manners’ look to their hosts and said, “An ancient city in Middle-earth.”

“History. Ew,” replied Ninquitar as he reached for a third sandwich.

Glorfindel grinned, still finding Ninquitar to be priceless in his innocence. “If it is not impolite of me to ask, are you near your brother as to years, Élarminë? There is something beautiful, for us, to know there are those untouched by the very long story of our people.” He took and held Erestor’s hand, whose fingers swiftly interlaced and held tightly.

“I have been a cleric at the temple here for many centuries,” began Élarminë while Ninquitar answered simply with, “He is old.”

“Their parents have very differing interests,” spoke up Manyanar, who was poised on the seat beside Ninquitar, watching his husband eat his way through the closest sandwich tray. “Their father is a historian. He writes first-hand accounts with narrative flair, and often travels to distant places in order to speak to eyewitnesses. Their mother is an athlete.”

“She wrestles,” jumped in Ninquitar excitedly. “She ranked third in the last summer games competition. She competes in some of the other strength-based games, too. Dead pull and hammer throws. She could totally snap our father in half--ah, never would though, they love each other a lot. They just spend a lot of time apart on their own things, so I was the last ‘reunion’ child.”

“Sounds as diverse as this household,” Glorfindel mused. “Which, before my old mind can forget...Ninquitar, Manyanar, I wish to offer you a painting commission, your choice of subject, as a gift. I will do my best for you. It is pitiful thanks for the kindness you showed my husband yesterday but I want to do this for you.”

“You are too kind,” said Manyanar. “We only did what anyone should do.”

“Can we put it in the bedroom? No, wait, the foyer, so everyone can see it,” said Ninquitar, switching from asking his lover to asking his brother. “Do you paint people, or just not-people? I only saw the not-people ones at the market.”

“I can paint people, but I need models for that, and it takes a little longer. It will be whatever you desire,” promised Glorfindel. “And tell me more about your family. They must also live here on the island?”

The brothers shook their heads. “Technically, our family house is here, and we live in it, as do our sisters and our eldest brother when they visit, and our parents eventually make it back home, but all of their jobs take them to the mainland much of the time,” said Élarminë. “We have one sister who is visiting currently. She, my wife, and my children are at home today. There was something said to me about the five of them whittling a chess set, but I have no talent for crafting, so it is better I stay out of their way,” he said with a smile.

“Fortunate that you are able to stay grounded here, then,” Erestor noted. “We have all lived everywhere but I think collectively we have experienced the greatest peace and happiness here.”

“We will have to have you over for lunch,” declared Élarminë. “You might have an interest in the den our father has. It is like a miniature museum, with artifacts and all of them labeled. He has a particular interest in a place called ‘Lorien’. Not the gardens here, but there was one on the other side of the sea, in Middle-earth, and he gets very excited for things like mallorn leaf rubbings that are authentic.”

Glorfindel glanced at Erestor with a huge smirk. A Thranduil-worthy smirk, even. Erestor saw this and quickly retracted his hand in order to sip tea, his cheeks turning pink. 

“Huh,” Gildor quipped. “Mallorn leaf. Erestor might have rubbed a few Lórien things back in the day.”

Glorfindel stood up. “Gildor, sweetie?” He stepped around and offered his hand. “I need a little help with the sweet cheeks. I mean sweet cakes. Come with me please?”

Gildor sprang up. “Happy to help!” he said perhaps a little too exuberantly. 

“Our father might have some interesting old stuff if you like that sort of thing, but if you really want to see something, you have to see our mother body slam someone twice her size. She is amazing!” exclaimed Ninquitar. 

“She made me arm wrestle her the first night I met her,” Manyanar told the others. “I lost, but she said I had commitment, and she liked that. She also sprained my wrist.”

“Is she nice to old people?” Eruglar wanted to know, wide-eyed. “I do not want her to break my Daddy, and he is really old. He never got remade like everyone else, so all his pieces are original. Original parts are hard to fix, and I do not want him broke in half.”

“She only arm wrestled me after I answered yes to the question ‘do you intend to marry our son?’ and her reply to me was to remove her jacket and say ‘fight me for him’ while her husband held her drink and said ‘oh, dear, I knew this would happen’ several times,” Manyanar said. Ninquitar snorted and coughed on a crumb, so Manyanar patted his back. “It was unique, and I love my in-laws. They are quirky, but supportive. They are home.”

“That is incredibly sweet and romantic,” Erestor said, hand over his heart.

Just then Gildor pushed the trolley in under Findekáno’s watchful eye, with a very silly grin on his face. Glorfindel’s smirk had gone over to Maedhros, who seemed determined to keep an eye on the tallest of his spouses, and Glorfindel resumed his seat next to Erestor.

“What is sweet and romantic, beautiful?” Glorfindel asked.

“Manyanar fought their mother for Ninquitar’s hand in marriage. A little like how you fought and died for your love of me, so that I might live.” Erestor raised a hand to Glorfindel’s stunned face. “I never have shown or expressed appreciation publicly for the depth of love you showed to me all of our lives together. Never declared to others the things you have done for me proudly, like I should have. I would like to change that. Our new friends do not know that you saved my life from a fiery demon that they cannot even imagine, and that it killed you instead. Now they do.” 

Glorfindel felt himself blushing very pink. “You would have done the same for me. You did, actually. You saved me from a dragon because you were a better and stronger warrior. It was a long time ago, and we are still blessed to have each other’s love. We both thank Eru for that, do we not?” Glorfindel took both his hands.

“Yes.” The pair touched foreheads.

“Is this something we can celebrate with sweet cakes?” Eruglar wanted to know. “And can I hear more about the dragon? How big is a dragon? Do dragons fly? Do dragons have big teeth? Can dragons talk? Daddy did you see a dragon? I wanna know about dragons!”

“Daddy was a little more ‘behind the scenes’ during those times,” Gildor said as he selected a few items for Eruglar, glad that the youth had not dived into the snacks before their guests had a chance, and handed the plate and a glass of milk to his son. “If you read most of the history books on the topic, they will call your Daddy a coward,” he added.

“Your father was my spy,” spoke up Findekáno, not about to have Gildor in a state of self-deprecation. “He is going to downplay a lot of things to you, little one, but he did many slightly foolish but very brave things.”

“Huh. Wonder who taught him about slightly foolish but very brave.” Maedhros gave Findekáno an accusing look. 

“No clue,” answered Findekáno back quickly.

“Then Erestor and Glorfindel were the only ones to see the dragon?” Eruglar persisted, to his credit talking with very manageably small bits of cake in his mouth. “No, wait. Glorfindel said Erestor fought the dragon? Were you okay, Glorfindel? What did the dragon do? Can I go see a dragon? Where do they live?”

“Findekáno fought a dragon, too,” Gildor said, trying to reciprocate.

“Baby dragon,” Findekáno said. “He did talk. I just about fell off my horse when he shouted his first insult at me. Quite the talker. He was how we found out there was a bounty on my head. More tea, anyone?” he asked calmly.

Erestor’s lips parted...but it was not the boy’s fault for being curious. And really, this one was on him. “Dragons are not nice, Eruglar. You would not have wanted to see the ones in Middle-earth and if any are still left they are very big and dangerous. Full of evil power. Some could fly like the one I fought with Glorfindel. It tried to run us down and our swords killed it but Glorfindel almost died because he was hurt so bad from how hard we were hit. It was not fun.”

“No. Not fun,” Glorfindel agreed. “Can I please have a slice of that torte? It looks amazing. Can I ask what flavor the filling is?”

“Lavender and lemon--and of course! Tea time is just an excuse for a second luncheon, right?” said Ninquitar with a grin as he took it upon himself to begin serving the cakes. “I spent all morning walking through the market and the shop windows to find the perfect one. Probably how I made myself so hungry!”

“Kán,o may I help to do anything to serve the food?” Erestor asked, both wanting to be useful and knowing he should move a little or risk being both sore and stiff. Findekáno motioned to the plates on the other side of the room, and Erestor retrieved them, muscles feeling both bad and good from stretching. “Both Káno and Gildor are exceptionally accomplished in the kitchen, and Glorfindel has a lot of skills as a baker. Maedhros is going to surprise me with his hidden talents of which I have not yet learned,” Erestor said with a loving twinkle in his eye. “For surely they are there in someone so exceptional.”

“Cooking?” Maedhros smiled. “When it came to cooking, our family was all about quantity over quality. We were nothing like Findekáno’s household, where they could assemble a gourmet meal in under an hour with little effort. We had big pots, big meals, and big appetites. However, there is one thing I am really good at. I make the best candied apples. It was something I found I could do with one hand, so I just mastered that one thing.”

“I really like candied apples,” Erestor spoke into the silence following that announcement, unaware of the plaintive and childlike yearning in his voice. 

“Ress, you may be the oldest one here but you are still young in spirit,” Glorfindel told him.

Erestor tilted his head. “Why?”

Most of the room erupted into chuckles, and Erestor genuinely seemed taken aback.

“And we all love you for it,” Findekáno said. “Alright, well, the oliphant in the room. I was thinking a lot about how everything went last night, and I am not opposed to spending more time at the Peacock, but my current employment would greatly prohibit that for multiple reasons. Recent circumstances, however, might make it less a requirement that I am employed full-time.”

“I was not sure if you wanted to talk about that with everyone else--that was what I wanted to speak about privately, but now is fine, too, if that is what you prefer,” said Manyanar.

“I think you  _ need _ to spend more time there, love,” Erestor said. “I have been praying for last night to happen for a long time.”

“So have I,” Glorfindel echoed. “I feel like you found something there we could not give you and I want you to have it. I would do anything  _ for _ you to have it.”

“I feel the same,” said Maedhros. “This is something the rest of us may never entirely understand, but we can support you entirely. If that means you find a part time or freelance job, or even if it means you just work there, or, sh--umm. Shoot, Fin, if it means you are just there, no work--”

“Oh, no, I could not do that. I would feel bad in other ways. Less job, not no job. I mean, from a practical standpoint, Erestor is going to be the one with the prominent and best-paying occupation now, if I can find something close to what he did before…” Findekáno paused. “Actually, I more than qualify for your old position. It would be an ethically questionable move, but I could just hire myself for that position and resign my current post.”

“No,” Erestor said flatly.

“No?” Findekáno looked puzzled. “It seems perfect. You were only working part time, and I know the job well. I supervised it for...why not?” asked Findekáno when Erestor would not stop shaking his head.

“Findekáno, I love you. I am sworn to you in life and in marriage and I acknowledge your political authority over me as well. But the first thing I said takes precedence over all the others. I willingly submit to you until you are ignoring your own needs. Not three days ago you were confined to bed by a healer for the sake of your well-being. Your health has not suddenly magically taken care of itself. Even were your body fully recovered from its assorted ordeals, there is the added burden of what you have endured because of literal ages of never having found peace. You have existed in a constant state of stress and anxiety for both of your lives. You have no reference for what it is to feel whole. Last night was a huge step toward moving closer to a place of knowing what life is meant to be. If it kills me, I will see you remain on a path of healing. Maybe at some future time we can talk about jobs and posts but we do not need your income. Gildor is here, so is Maedhros and now he has the blessing of two hands. Four of us are going to be able to manage to support this household. You already sold your hair. Enough. Your only job is to focus on Finya and Findekáno and what they need to find themselves.”

All three of their guests had stopped eating. Manyanar set the fork with torte on it back down on the plate. “You sold your hair?”

Findekáno stared down at the table legs. He nodded.

“We actually talked this morning, about your hair, and I was telling Manyanar, if we could convince you to grow it longer, there are so many things we could do to style it,” said Ninquitar. “How long was it?”

“Oh, long enough to trip over. You could say I have been in a perpetual state of identity crisis. I even just chopped it all off once,” he said. “Barely enough to run my fingers through.”

All three of the young elves cringed, but the child sitting on the floor, letting the dog lick his fingers, looked up at Gildor and asked, “If I cut my hair off, how long would it take to grow back? How much money can I get for it? How many cakes could I buy? And if we cut off Asfaloth’s hair, how long would it take to grow back? Would it grow back faster or slower than the dog’s hair?”

“Well, I never!” Asfaloth protectively hugged his long white braid, then munched on one of the flowers in his hair to console himself.

“No one is cutting your mane, dear stallion,” Glorfindel tried to soothe. “Sugar cube?” He held out three to the horse. “Hair grows several inches a year, Eruglar. But it takes some years for it to get very long. I cut all my hair off once, too. It is still growing from that.”

“Mine does grow incredibly fast, so I will not have regret quite as long, I suppose,” said Findekáno. “And then, just remind me of what happens when I do it next time I try,” he told Glorfindel.

“What are you doing later today?” asked Ninquitar. He and Manyanar had conspiratorially whispered to one another a moment before. “I promise, my suggestion if you are free has nothing to do with hair.”

Findekáno looked around. “Cleaning,” he said.

“Oh, it is bad with you, sweetie,” said Manyanar.

Findekáno blinked. “What is?”

“Cleaning,” said Manyanar and Ninquitar at the same time. “I used to do the same thing,” said Manyanar. “Every time I got nervous or felt anxiety about myself, I was cleaning. I would clean things two, three, four times a day. Ninquitar’s mother noticed; she was the one who took me to the mainland to meet with someone--mental health services here on the island are sh...not good,” he said, eyes falling a moment to the child on the floor. “That was when I got some answers on why I did what I did. I still write to him. He has given me such great guidance. So… forgive me if I come too close to home, but… you clean a lot? Cleaning lets you focus on something that gets your mind off of everything worrying you because you are focused on getting the dust out of every corner of the room. If you have ever run away, or hidden, it means you are probably letting your anxiety control you instead of facing, what am I afraid of? It is a sort of self-sabotage. And, while I have never done it, I clearly work with a lot of people who change a lot of things about themselves. You cannot change your eyes, your mouth, your ears, your face--but you can change your hair, so there is something psychological about a different style or a drastic cut that relates to a change. It might have been subconscious that you were already on the path to a significant change, and that was why you cut your hair. Unless you did it because you really just needed the money.”

“No, that was just...I had no idea how valuable it was,” said Findekáno softly.

“Honey, we want to know if you want to go shopping with us,” said Ninquitar. “I have a feeling you do not own a lot of frocks, and I know a girl who I met last night who I think would love a new look. And by that, I mean...” Ninquitar pointed at Findekáno.

“Daddy, what is a frock?” asked Eruglar.

“A fancy dress,” said Gildor.

Eruglar frowned. “Why does Uncle Findekáno need a dress? He is a boy.”

“I have dresses and I am a boy,” Glorfindel said. “Sometimes I feel more like the girl part of me wants to wear a dress. Not everyone feels all girl or all boy. Some people feel in-between, and some people have bodies that are in between.”

Eruglar looked at Gildor for additional guidance. His expression showed that he was not entirely believing Glorfindel.

“He is telling you the truth. I think he must be okay talking about himself?” Gildor said hesitantly, not wanting to overstep.

“I was born with both girl parts and boy parts, Eruglar. People like me are called ‘intersex’ and can be many different ways. It is not common to be intersex but we exist and Eru created us, and He loves us, too. But people are afraid of what they do not understand, and it is simpler for people to believe that there are only just boys and just girls...but that is not really true. If it were that easy, then there would not be boys who grow up to love other boys and girls who grow up to love other girls. People are like flowers; all different, all beautiful.”

“So, may we ‘borrow’ this radiant flower for the evening, or were there group plans?” asked Ninquitar with another motion at Findekáno. “Because I have a feeling you are too nervous to answer for yourself, Sugar,” he said to Findekáno.

“You certainly have permission and thanks from Erestor and myself. Maedhros?” Glorfindel asked.

“Shopping. Shopping sounds wonderful. I have a few things I was hoping to take Erestor and Gildor shopping for. Maybe we can all go to town together--though, I might need to beg Glorfindel or Asfaloth to do a little caretaking of Eruglar so that I can bring Gildor along.”

Asfaloth, who was still cradling his braid, said, “Only if you hide the scissors before you leave.”

“Scissors, sharp implements in general…” Erestor quipped.

“Irrelevant,” Glorfindel cut off his husband with a pat on his back. “I am definitely staying and will be happy to be the primary person in charge, though I would not refuse it would Asfaloth keep us both company.”

“Wait...so...none of you are going with me?” Findekáno scanned the members of his family who were in the room.

“If you really need one of us to go, Asfaloth is the best choice, love. He has impeccable fashion sense and he is a horse if you need a ride home,” Glorfindel said without any hesitation. “After yesterday, I am not even going to pretend I can contribute more than Ninquitar and Manyanar; they are full blown wardrobe and color experts. Like, the caliber people pay in order to be advised by. You should appoint them the future Royal Wardrobe Keepers now before anyone else can nab them. Not joking.”

“Future Royal Wardrobe Keepers?” Ninquitar laughed. “Is that for one of those role playing game things? I had a feeling some of you might be into that sort of entertainment. Manyanar and I used to be in a guild, but our storymaster was a little too intense, and we have not found a group since.”

“Before you tell them,” said Élarminë, “I assure you, I have shared nothing of your confessions.” He looked directly at Findekáno. “They are not going to be upset if you choose not to tell them.”

“Oh.” Ninquitar did in fact look a little upset, but he followed his pout with, “I mean, we completely understand if you want to keep your guild private.”

“I am a king,” said Findekáno. His words were plain, and he followed them with a sip of tea.

“Oh, that is amazing! My last character was a lord of a huge part of the game play area.” Ninquitar was nudged by Manyanar. “Oh, right, but if you have a closed group, that--that is fine. You must have played for a long time to become a king.”

The cup of camomile was lowered, and Findekáno said, “I am Prince Findekáno Fingolfinion Finwëion of Tirion upon Túna; His Royal Majesty, the Sixth High King of the Noldor of Endor, Prince of Dor-lómin; Nemestëaryon of Noldorin Valinor; Protector of Galathilion; Captain of Mindon Eldaliéva; Dragon-Knight of Ard-galen; Lord of Avathar; Master of Sindanórie.”

Ninquitar picked up another cucumber sandwich. “That must be some game you are involved in,” he said wistfully.

Erestor stood up. “Ninquitar,” he said kindly, “this is not a game. You may wish to dislike history, but even in the here and now there is a High King on the mainland in Tirion and his name is Finwë. That same Finwë has a son whose name is Fëanor; that is Maedhros’ father. Finwë has a second son whose name is Fingolfin; that is Findekáno’s father. Long ago, Maedhros abdicated the throne to Fingolfin when the deaths of the First Age happened and so he is not joking when he is telling you that he is the heir to the throne of Valinor.”

The cucumber sandwich still made it into Ninquitar’s mouth. “Wait...are we supposed to bow or something?”

“Honey, I love you, but sometimes…” Manyanar kissed the top of Ninquitar’s head and then stood up. He came before Findekáno, who shuffled his tea onto the table. Manyanar took hold of Findekáno’s hands and pulled him up from his seat. “I want you to know how honored I am that you opened up to me yesterday, and I felt that way before knowing this. As you can probably guess, we are very faith-following people, and while random can happen, meeting you yesterday does not seem random. You seem like someone whom we were destined to meet, and I think we all know why. If you mean to keep this secret, your secret is safe. I promise we will not go anywhere or do anything you are not comfortable with, and as soon as you want to come home, that is where we will go.”

Findekáno nodded. “And, the rest of you will be nearby, too, right?”

“Near, but I think our destination will be a little different than yours,” said Maedhros.

“So...I have to stay with Fingon, I am not allowed to go to the stables?” Asfaloth queried.

“With Fingon. Findekáno,” Glorfindel corrected quickly, flushing slightly. “No mares please,” Glorfindel smiled.

“What if a mare is really interested in me?”

Glorfindel stared at him.

“Ask Findekáno if it is a good idea,” Erestor suggested. “Like, wild part of the island? Maybe it would be alright. Middle of the market? Really not a good idea at all. Alright?”

“Alright!” Asfaloth said brightly, moving away from the furniture a little excitedly. For a moment a stunning white horse appeared there in the great room that appeared terribly surprised, and then the Elf-form was back. “Sorry,” he blushed. “Got ahead of myself.”

“Actually, I think I might try going with just Manyanar and Ninquitar,” said Findekáno.

“Yes! All the mares for me!” shouted Asfaloth. “I mean...uh, only if you are sure, Findekáno.”

Glorfindel now wore a very pained expression, because just when this had finally gotten worked out he now had to tell the horse plans had changed completely. He loved Káno but there were times he received headaches in recompense and this was one of them. But there was still a potential save, and he asked Erestor a question in silent desperation. Floods of relief washed over him. “Asfaloth, there is a change of plans. Erestor is the one who is going to need a horse now with his back pain, so same thing except you will need to listen to him. What about we have a good run outside right now, would that help you think of something besides you know what?”

“...sure!” And only too happily was Asfaloth out the door.

It was easy.

Too easy.

“Any of you happen to ride over on a mare?” asked Gildor.

Three hands went up.

Glorfindel bolted for the door, accidentally tripping on one of the furniture legs Findekáno had so carefully dusted, striking some body part hard enough to make an icky sounding  _ smack _ on the floor followed by  _ “OW!! FRUDDAFRUCK!! _ ” as he regained his feet and bounced off of every doorway that would help him exit the house just a little faster. “ASFALOoooooooooooth” sort of trailed away before the door slammed.

“So,” Erestor smiled, topping off everyone’s tea before he sat again. “Where were we?”

“Finishing tea before an adventure, I think,” remarked Élarminë. “Though, none for me. Adventures, that is. In fact, if permitted, I think I should like to stay here with Glorfindel and Eruglar while the rest of you are out.”

“Of course you may. I hope he did not injure himself. He will apologize for Asfaloth but...might as well apologize for the weather,” Erestor shrugged. “It is another long story but he is Nahar, that Lord Oromë granted to form an attachment to my husband. Another blessed peculiarity of life under this roof. He is extraordinary; a kind, generous spirit and I think I speak for all when I say he is loved.”

“This is better than that game,” decided Ninquitar. He finished the last cucumber sandwich and said, “I live here now. Just so you know, love.”

Manyanar laughed and shook his head as he brought Findekáno over to sit with them. “Do not be surprised if someone asks you to teach them the game, considering how much you bring it up.”

“I love games!” Gildor said very interested. “And am I in trouble if I tell them how many extra rooms are in this house and what a fabulous game we could have here?”

Glorfindel returned at that moment, sitting next to Erestor again without a word.

“What is wrong with your wrist?” Erestor asked.

“My wrist is fine,” Glorfindel said archly, reaching for his tea. “What did I miss?”

“Fin, I may be old but I know ‘swelling’ and ‘purple’ when I see it.”

“I am certain it is just the light. Have you had the cucumber sandwiches yet?” He glared mildly at Erestor.

“Since when am I the responsible one?” Erestor asked, exasperated. “Gildor, please talk to him.”

“Okay it might be sprained? But it will be fine, Ress. Let him enjoy his tea. I will live, I promise you.” Glorfindel rested his head for a moment on his husband's shoulder. “Whichever of you has the dappled mare, he did not cover her. The other two...I am so sorry. Tell me how I may make compensation to you and I will see to it. I swear compared to him I do not even have urges.”

“Joke is on him. All three are about four months pregnant,” said Ninquitar. “Found the stable open one day when we were sure we locked it. Never did find out whose horse got in there.”

“He still is not above suspicion,” Glorfindel mumbled, both relieved and deflated. Suddenly his wrist throbbed in protest. Wonderful. Closing his eyes, he appreciated the fragrance of his tea and sipped at it, wondering what it was like to have a normal horse and knowing he still would not want it any other way.

Gildor exited the room and returned after a moment with a damp cloth soaked with cold water. “Here. At least let me wrap this around your injury.”

Glorfindel extended the limb without further protest. He especially had no desire to refuse any attention his former lover wished to grant. That and, he was not going to be an ass about it. Asfaloth returned, sat, and helped himself to another piece of cake, feeling content and ignoring Glorfindel’s narrowed eyes.

After wrapping Glorfindel’s wrist loosely, Gildor kissed the back of his hand and relinquished his limb back to him. “I am going to clean up before we leave,” said Gildor. “I would feel terrible leaving you with that to take care of in your condition.”

“I can help,” offered Manyanar, who started by picking up the empty plate from the cucumber sandwiches.

“Just to be clear, then, none of you ever played ‘Long Ago, Far Away’?” asked Ninquitar as Manyanar and Gildor disappeared with empty plates, cups, and platters.

“I am afraid I do not know what that is,” Glorfindel told him. “But...my childhood was somewhat lacking. Maedhros? Ress?”

No one seemed to have any idea what Ninquitar was talking about, which meant Ninquitar was only too happy to explain the rules, gameplay, and entire history. It gave him something to do now that the cucumber sandwiches were gone. “It is a strategy game with a story building component. You get to pretend you are part of a fellowship that goes on adventures. There are puzzles to solve and evil to fight, and if you get into a guild that is really into it, you might all have costumes and act like you are the characters you are playing. Sometimes guilds will battle each other or their storymasters will create an alliance and come up with something where everyone has to work together. We had a guild at the Peacock, but that was where we had problems with the storymaster. The game originated on the mainland, so it can be difficult to find adventure decks here, but sometimes the storymasters just make their own.”

“In other words, it is the First, Second and Third Age without bleeding, starvation or torture,” Erestor said softly. “This is very engaging. You sound like you are interested in history after all, without realizing it. How much time is required of your storymasters, and how often do you meet? And how much stomach for evil does your guild have?”

“The guild disbanded, but we have been looking for a new one,” said Ninquitar. “Storymasters need to prepare the adventures ahead of time, but I think the commitment is really whatever they want to put into it. When you say stomach for evil, what do you mean?”

“I think he means how horrible are the pretend orcs and petty dwarves you fight,” said Manyanar, who had returned presently with Gildor.

“Oh. There are two ways the game can be played--delay or destroy. Delay just means you have a skirmish and chase them off. Destroy means you have to try to kill them, or they might kill you. It also means they can have some seriously questionable motives,” Ninquitar said.

Erestor studied them, resisting the temptation to slip into a mind he knew he would find unguarded...to find what he already knew would be there; naivete worthy of a hobbit-child. Was this innocence beneficial, or a kind of concern? His heart told him that any consideration of taking that away from another was not a light matter. “I would have to reflect and pray on many things, and I would want to take counsel with your brother before I agreed to any kind of participation. Though, as an author, composer, playwright and storyteller, there is a lot of creative appeal to what you are describing, especially when I have thousands of years of personal experiences to draw from.”

“That would be so much fun! Half the waiting during games is arguments between the players and the storymaster on whether something could happen or not,” Ninquitar said. “So many of the people who play it have no real life experience. One night, it was chaos over whether or not balrogs have wings, or not, and whether they all live in caves, or not, and whether they are four metres or forty, and whether they have names, or not. No one left happy that night.”

_ So innocent,  _ voiced Glorfindel to Erestor.  _ He says balrog as if it is a made-up creature just in a game. _

_ To him, it is,  _ acknowledged Erestor back.

“Just...be aware he cheats sometimes,” said his older brother.

“What? No, just--”

“Creative gameplay is still cheating,” Manyanar said.

Ninquitar huffed. 

“We were trapped in a dungeon and went around in circles, so he folded the map and said that it was multidimensional and they could move in a direction other than those on a compass. The storymaster rolled on it, and we won, but it upset the storymaster,” said Manyanar.

“All he had to say was no,” said Ninquitar.

“You told him it was because your character was a Maiar, and he asked if that was established, and you said yes, and it was not, but he just kept going because no one thought you would roll the number he gave you.”

Ninquitar shrugged. “Lucky, I guess. Or maybe I used my Maiar powers.” He waggled his brows.

“Rolls?” questioned Eruglar. “Like sweet rolls?”

“No, no, no, you need dice to play. You roll them for random things. Or to try to prevent someone from cheating.” Manyanar glanced at his husband.

“I will not allow cheating,” Erestor said archly.

“In my defense,” said Ninquitar, “the storymaster for our guild was an--”

“Nin! Child,” scolded Manyanar.

Ninquitar’s mouth snapped shut. “You seem very fair.”

Manyanar rubbed the back of Ninquitar’s neck. “The storymaster was not comfortable with having me play a female character. He let me do it, but he still used male pronouns the entire time. Other players were respectful, but he was almost going out of his way to emphasize the use of ‘he’ and ‘his’ through the game.”

“In other words, he was extremely rude and unable to understand the concept of role playing. I certainly hope he never enters the world of theater,” Erestor huffed.

“I thought that was his profession. Or was it dance?” questioned Élarminë.

“Yes, but he was kind of a healer, too. He was very argumentative. Not at first,” added Ninquitar. “We were friends with him from some performances he had done at the Peacock.”

“He was over to our house a few times,” Élarminë said. “He said something one day that bothered me, and I asked we not invite him over after that.”

“That ever-expanding one-elf vermin infestation on a bed of slime mold,” Erestor hissed, his demeanor transforming immediately into a snarl. “That nest of cockroaches worthy to be my father’s spawn, coating everything he touches with mmff–” 

Glorfindel’s hand came firmly around over Erestor’s mouth. “We need a moment outside and I wonder if I could ask Gildor and Mae to join me?” he said ever so pleasantly. “Ress just remembered we have trouble with a rat out in the chicken coop. It is really awful, you see. We will only be a moment!” With strength one would not suspect from his size, Glorfindel locked his spare arm around Erestor’s waist and hauled him along; Maedhros hastened over so that he was carried not dragged because everyone there could see the fury building in his eyes. The door closed on an uncomfortable silence. Mostly. Asfaloth reached for another sugar cube and shook his head. “Faelion, the gift that keeps on giving. Kinda like my plops, but less beneficial. So what did he say this time?”

“You know Faelion?” asked Élarminë.

Findekáno looked at the door the others had exited out of. “He tried to destroy this family more than once,” he said solemnly. Manyanar put an arm around Findekáno to give him a hug.

Outside, Gildor jogged over to the others, having been the last one out. “Before we assemble an adventure party to go throttle him, I remind you all that bastard is on the mainland these days!” he shouted.

“I know that, Inglorion!” Glorfindel shouted back, holding onto an Erestor who now was struggling and beginning to cry in frustration. “He needs people he will listen to about why that fuckwit is not worth it and right now that is you, Mae. And Gildor too, because you understand more about the devastation he has left here, and how that...it feels powerless. The bastard got me to leave my precious husband for dead! He did not fucking care that Erestor could be saved because it suited his agenda to see Ress murdered! Then I just got raped a lot and lied to some more...and still he keeps going. Can you not look in Erestor’s eyes? I have some kind of faith our time will come and Eru will tire of allowing him to do this to others but I only care about Erestor and that he push this crap away from his mind and heart. I know he can but we all need a little help sometimes.”

It took little effort for Maedhros to scoop Erestor up into his arms. He held him, cradled him, and rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. “Remember what I managed to do to that asshole with one hand? I have two hands now--just enough to strangle a bitch,” he said, though his words were not angry--they were offered in a soft, soothing voice.

The dark head shook back and forth.  _ It is that place. He believes in what they do at that clinic, the place that tore my mind to pieces, and he tries to spread that poison any way he can. Do you not see? He is worse than any creature of my father and the only ones he wants to prey on are the likes of us. I know what he did to me but what stabs at me is knowing Fin still carries so much guilt for what he never would have done were Faelion not a viper. I found as much mercy from Sauron and though I am not without sin I have never wanted to lash out at someone like this before. It carries me away…”  _ Erestor held tightly to Maedhros.  _ I need to put this aside; it is not the time. I want to kill the little shitwad in a dozen creative ways...and you cannot know what that means. Help me, please! _

_ So do I, and I would help you do it, but I will not allow you to give yourself the title ‘kinslayer’, no matter how deserved his death would be.  _ Maedhros kissed Erestor’s forehead. “Take a deep breath and think. Many things have happened over the past few days that one might consider to be fated. We met these people. They knew Faelion. Maybe there are things they know that can help us bring an end to his tyranny. At the very least, we have allies, I would wager.”

The suggestion was latched onto at once. Erestor drew the deepest breath he could with this much agitation.  _ More. You have something the others do not; why it is there is beyond me but you might as well make use of it.  _ He waited to be told what else to do, the ridiculousness of this not lost on him. Incapable of giving a fuck, he caressed the thick hair.

_ Do you prefer this? Speaking thus?  _ Maedhros had rather easily siphoned off other connections so that he and Erestor had privacy without the possibility of any of the others hearing them.  _ This is probably not the best circumstances to admit, but having you in my head like this is very comforting. I wish we were exploring this under different circumstances. _

_ I jumble back and forth. It is my way of private whispering or something? I have strong ability with this and if you ever do not want me here I will go – I have made some mistakes when afraid or worried but I want to be respectful of you always. I think I just am not ready to advertise how easy I find it to submit to you when it is completely unlike me to be this way. Worse than easy; I want to. I am at a loss just as much as I was yesterday at the Peacock and last night, but it means that with you I will not be an argumentative pain in the ass. Or at least less of one. _

_ And I have such a desire to protect and comfort you. Perhaps...no, I do not want to seem demeaning to you. But then, you might still find the thoughts, yes? I have had such headstrong partners. That is not to say you are weak. You are...strong but pliant. Instead of a sword or a club, like a rope. I probably sound ridiculous. _

_ No. Believe me, I want what you are offering. It is not that my other husbands have not provided those things; they have. You have a different manner about you, though, and I hunger for it. I feel starving for something I was not aware of and I wish it made any kind of sense; that is the part that will drive me in circles. I cannot help it, it is a scholar thing I guess. _

Gildor touched Maedhros’ shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“Possibly,” Maedhros said. He nuzzled Erestor.  _ Then let go of this anger over that which you cannot change. It is in the past, and while we will have dealings again with him--of that I have no doubt--give yourself peace today. Do not trouble yourself with him any longer--I hardly think he is worrying over us right now. Do not allow him that unknown satisfaction of ruining your day. _

_ I can do it because you ask it,  _ Erestor exhaled, the tension draining away.  _ I know you are right, and I love you. _

_ It would be preferred you do it because you want to do it. What can I do to make it better? _

_ You already did – this is not a simple dynamic for me. I will explain to you but I cannot do so quickly. Hold me, give me affection, and give me some time to daydream about you punching Faelion? That would be a lot. The first moment there is the time I will tell you, or now if you can remove us to someplace without interruption.* _

_ We have guests, but I would speak more with you on this later. For now, feel free to daydream about me pummeling him with two good hands next time.  _ “More than alright,” murmured Maedhros. “Erestor? Are you alright now?” His deep voice rumbled through Erestor.

The chocolate eyes looked at Gildor. “My composure is recovered now. If I wanted to kill the motherfucker does that mean I was backsliding?” he asked softly. “Thank you, Fin, for taking me out of there. I got so angry. Angrier than I thought I could anymore. I did not mean for that to happen.” Gazing now at Maedhros, “It has passed. Thank you.”

“You can be awfully adorable when you are mad,” said Glorfindel with a smile.

“Is it alright for me to say you are far easier to talk down than Káno?” Maedhros kissed Erestor’s nose. “Would you like me to put you down, or carry you back inside?”

“Has Gildor not explained to you the overwhelming privilege and preferability of the latter? I know he has, because he adores you; something I appreciate now and will bother him about quite a lot to tell me how wondrous you are so I may hope to love you half so well.” Erestor tightened his hold on Maedhros.

“And that is my Ress, a paragraph when a single word would do,” Glorfindel teased. “Though he is yours now, too.” He used the opportunity to link arms with Gildor.

Gildor began to skip, pulling Glorfindel along with him. “Did Mae Mae tell you where we are going with Erestor?” he asked Glorfindel. Gildor was grinning ear to ear.

“No...but from the way your teeth are reflecting the sunlight, it has to be a sex shop? I would say ‘fun room at the Peacock’ but you could do that just as easily here for free.”

“Even better than a sex shop. A secret sex shop. They make all sorts of typical toys, but they take requests. Very creative. We went there once the last time we were on the island, and we meant to go again, but, you know, life changing events and all. Maedhros was not sure if it was too early, but, really, those two are going to have a great time. Who knew  _ I _ would be the one to be the chaperone!” laughed Gildor.

“Do I get details later?” Glorfindel drawled.

“Remember how we were all connected last night? I bet we could do that again, and I can be your eyes and ears there.” Gildor snuck a kiss to Glorfindel’s cheek.

“Please do,” Glorfindel smiled, bringing Gildor to a standstill and fluffing his hair a little. With two fingers under his jaw, he leaned in for a kiss to his lips, a tentative one to see how it would be received.

“Mmm…” Gildor finished the kiss with a little nip to Glorfindel’s chin. “Is this permission for me to talk dirty to you again, and send you very blushworthy notes at random times of day? Also, I miss midnight dessert-and-squirt. Remember those? We would eat cakes and melted chocolate off one another and whomever came first had to suck off the other one? We should do those again.”

“It is,” Glorfindel said, coloring and becoming quieter. It was no time for cowardice. “I hoped it might also be permission for me to express feelings of a somewhat more tender nature, not knowing if you are willing or interested in exploring a relationship with me on that level as well. What we did upstairs this morning was good, I enjoyed that very much, but...I wonder if we might...if we might consider something more?” Now that he had actually managed to say it, he sought the courage to raise his eyes. He should have taken more time to think this through first, because only now did he realize he was unsure he could dissemble worth a damn if Gildor rejected him.

“Hmm...that sounds serious. I should check my planner, see what is on my calendar, and talk it over with Mae Mae--and my parents, they would want to advise me on what to do, of course. Should we also talk to Asfaloth? We should discuss it with Asfaloth. And after that, I think I can give you my written answer in three to six weeks.” Gildor’s mouth twitched, and his eyes sparkled.

Glorfindel massaged his temples a little. This had to be progress, because not that long ago he would have fallen apart from uncertainty, anxiety and...because he was really fucked up, so maybe he had graduated to less fucked up, because he got the part where this was humor. Still, he felt entirely justified when he dove like a snake at Gildor’s midsection and glommed onto him in a bear hug. His tunic was yanked up to blow the hugest raspberry possible (wet and sloppy with extra spit) hoping that it tickled like hell. Then he let go, adjusting his shirt without breaking stride like nothing had happened. “Sure. No later than six weeks, though. The offer rescinds afterward. At sunset.”

Gildor giggled. “Changed my mind. Erestor and Maedhros can go shopping without me. I want to stay here and be scandalous with you.” He opened the door and almost bonked Eruglar, who was about to come to see what was going on. “Actually, hold that thought on the scandal part,” he said.

“It can wait,” Glorfindel said drily. “Has this young man had enough to eat?”

“Ummmm...maybe more...cake!” Eruglar lifted his arms and made his hands look like claws. “I am a cake monster! Rarrrr!” He ran towards the remaining cake.

“You may have one more small piece,” said Gildor firmly. 

Eruglar growled again. “Cake monster wants all the cake!”

“One piece,” Gildor repeated.

“One piece of each,” Eruglar attempted to negotiate.

_ One small piece and if there is any further argument, no piece at all. Daddy loves the cake monster and daddy makes the rules.  _ Glorfindel shared with his friend by way of swift suggestion.

“No...no, you need to pick just one,” Gildor said, putting his foot down. “I, uh, I really love my little cake monster, but daddy makes the rules, not the cake monster.”

Eruglar’s chin trembled. “I want both,” he repeated.

“No, you already had cake before. Now...you need to pick one, or, you get neither. Cake is not necessary. It is a treat.” Poor Gildor looked very nervous, but tried to keep his voice even.

With a huff, Eruglar went to the cake that Findekáno made. More than half of it was left. It was a simple pound cake with apricot cream between the layers and a white ganache over the top. Maedhros realized it before the others, but could not react in time before Eruglar stuck his hand into the top of the cake and then threw a fistful of frosting and filling at the wall. “Cake monster! Rarrr! No one gets cake!”

Before he could get to either of the other cakes, Maedhros had the child lifted off the ground and tucked him with little effort under one arm. “Where would you like your ch--cake monster deposited, Gildor?” he asked calmly while Gildor, looking mortified, averted his eyes from their guests.

_ Glorfindel--what do I do?  _ panicked Gildor.

_ Deep breath. You are calm, confident Gildor. I have seen you handle kings. ‘Give Eruglar to Daddy, we are going outside,’ and then I will be at your side.  _

Gildor walked calmly to Maedhros. “Here. Give Eruglar to--”

“Rarrr!” Eruglar slapped the icing on his hands onto Gildor’s face. “Cake monsterrrrrrr! Rarr!”

Maedhros pressed his lips together. His face became very red as he fought to keep from smiling or laughing.  _ Honey you know I love you, right? _

Gildor spat the frosting out of his mouth, knowing Eruglar had let the dog lick his hands earlier. Gobs of filling clung to his lashes. He snorted to loosen some cake from one nostril. “Give me. The child.” He held out his arms.

“Uh, oh. Daddy’s mad,” realized Eruglar.

“This is why we do not allow balrogs, dragons, or cake monsters in the house,” commented Maedhros. It helped to keep him from reacting with laughter, which he really wanted to do. He waited until Gildor exited with Eruglar and then looked at the remnants of cake on the floor. “I should clean that up.”

Glorfindel followed Gildor outside. “I will bring you a cloth, Gildor.”  _ Right after I make sure you are okay. If this were me I would ask him if he understands why I am angry. If he gives an appropriate answer, I would ask him what he thinks he needs to do to make it right. Apologizing to you, the guests, and doing a chore to make up for the work he is costing Maedhros would be fair. You are doing good not to hide your feelings from him; he needs to see that he can hurt people that love him with his actions . _

Gildor set Eruglar down on the stoop and sat beside him. He took a moment to wipe away most of the frosting with his hand. He wiped his hand on the grass. “What you did in there was very naughty. It made me very sad. These are new friends, and Daddy might know a lot of people, but Daddy has very few friends. It was a nice day, and there was no reason to do what you did. Why did you decide to be a cake monster?”

Glorfindel felt that this was going well, and backed away unobtrusively to retrieve the promised cloth.

Eruglar dug his foot into the dirt. He shrugged. Gildor sighed. “I wanted cake.”

“You were told you could have one more piece. You wanted two pieces, but what happened the last time you ate too much cake?”   
  


“Threw up,” answered Eruglar.

“That was why I said only one more piece, and only a small piece. Cake tastes good going down, but not coming up. Moderation has to be practiced. But, why did you keep going? And why did you slap me with frosting? I have never slapped you, nor will I, but I will not tolerate you hitting other people,” said Gildor firmly. “We do not hit in this house.”

Eruglar hung his head. Gildor was about to speak again, but Eruglar said, “But someone spanks Erestor.”

Gildor’s eyes widened considerably. “Where did you hear that?” he demanded.

“Um…” Eruglar wiped a cakey hand off on his pants.

Gildor took a deep breath and counted to twelve. “I am not mad about that. I am still upset about cake monster. I want to know who told you what you just said to me.”

“I heard it,” Eruglar finally said.

“Who did you hear it from?” asked Gildor.

Eruglar shrugged. “I walked by the door upstairs.”

Gildor wiped the remaining icing from his lips with his thumb. “You know, Daddy can tell when you are telling only part of the truth and not the whole truth.” It was a gamble, but he had a pretty good feeling he was right.

Eruglar sighed. “I walked by the door and I heard things so I stood by the door. And I pushed my ear against the door and I listened.”

“How long did you listen?”

“Ummm...this many minutes?” He held up eight sticky fingers. “Then I smelled baking and I went down and tried to help Uncle Fingon--”

“Uncle Findekáno.”

“--Uncle Findekáno with baking but he told me not to touch anything. I do not think he likes me,” added Eruglar.

“We can talk about that later,” said Gildor, not wanting to have a discussion about Findekáno without him there. “You were eavesdropping. You know that is also bad, right?”

“I guess,” said Eruglar.

“The third floor is a private floor. You should only come up there if something is wrong and you need one of us, and you should announce you are there by knocking on the door,” explained Gildor.

“Sorry,” said Eruglar. “Was Erestor naughty, too? Was that why he needed a spanking? Is that why he hurts now?”

Gildor stared down the path from the house.  _ Glorfindel? I am in over my head. How did I ever think I could handle this? This is payback for everything I ever did wrong, I just know it. I love him too much to give him up, but I have no idea how to raise a child. I surrender. _

The door opened at that moment and Glorfindel exited the house, bearing two cloths; one very damp one lightly steaming on a plate and another dry one and handed them silently to Gildor.  _ Bullshit. This is what it means to be a father; there is no surrender. You are going nowhere, neither is he and neither am I. You are to tell him that Uncle Glorfindel will explain about Uncle Erestor. Do it.  _

Gildor slid the warm, wet cloth from the plate and cleaned himself up before he reached over and took each of Eruglar’s hands in turn to wipe them off. “Uncle Glorfindel is going to talk to you about Uncle Erestor in a moment, but first, we have business to finish, because you keep distracting from the original reason we are out here. You said you were the cake monster because you wanted more cake. I believe that was a reason, but not all of the reasons.” He looked down his nose at Eruglar.

Eruglar huffed. “No one was talking to me.”

“Ah. So you were upset that the conversation and focus were not on you,” guessed Gildor.

“Yeah. I guess.”

“I see.”

“And everyone keeps talking about Uncle Findekáno and his names and his identities so I made the cake monster so everyone would pay attention to me. Uncle Findekáno never wants anyone to pay attention to him anyway,” reasoned Eruglar.

“Eruglar, the cake monster does not seem like a very nice person,” said Gildor.

“Not a person. Cake monster is a monster,” clarified Eruglar.

“Exactly. And Papa Mae is right--we do not let monsters into the house. We love you, and we want you here, but we want you, not the cake monster,” said Gildor.

“What if Uncle Findekáno said that one of his identities was a cake monster. Would he get to stay?” pressed Eruglar.

“Young man, I think you know that you are saying things now to try to divert away from what you did and what you are responsible for,” Gildor said firmly. “You know cake monster was wrong, yes?”

“Yes,” said Eruglar resignedly. 

“What do you think you should do to make up for the fact that you unleashed a cake monster in the house in front of our guests?” asked Gildor.

Eruglar shrugged. “Maybe, just one cake?”

Gilor shook his head.

“Maybe no more cake?” Eruglar’s voice was sadder.

“That is a start. That is a punishment for you. What can you do to make things right for the other people? None of them wanted a cake monster today,” reminded Gildor.

Eruglar rocked to either side as he sat. “Make them a new cake?”

“I do not think they are worried about cake right now.”

“Tell them I am sorry?” 

“That sounds like a good start.”

“I have to do more?” Eruglar whined. 

“Papa Mae cleaned up your mess, and Uncle Glorfindel came to help us clean up, and you ruined Uncle Findekáno’s cake.” Gildor ticked each one off his fingers.

Eruglar looked up at Glorfindel. “Sorry,” he said.

“I accept your apology,” Glorfindel said quietly. “It hurt me too, because this was something special for Uncle Findekáno, but your father has said enough about the cake. I am to talk about Uncle Erestor, who is my husband, and Uncle Findekáno’s husband. He is also Uncle Maedhros’ husband now. In time, Eruglar, more of us are probably going to become each others’ husbands because the adults that live in this home have been special to each other for a very long time. We have a history you do not know about yet; we are very, very old elves. You are a very young elf, and while there is much you should not understand until you are older, you should know that elves marry by sharing their bodies in a special way that bonds them together. We are all created by a Father in the heavens whose name is Eru, and when we marry we pledge that we are creating our relationship in His sight and asking His blessing. It is sacred, and it is something only for grown ups. When grown ups share their bodies, it feels good. They use their private parts for this. It is called ‘sex’ when that happens. 

“For some people, spankings are something they like as part of having sex. Uncle Erestor is one of those people. This is a private thing and you should not know this, but since you listened when you should not have I would rather you understand than wonder. This should not be talked about with people who are not part of our family. As for his back, it hurts because something happened to it, probably because he exercised a lot yesterday. Erestor is the oldest of all of us, and it is easier for him to become injured. He will get better because we will take care of him; he just needs a little time to heal and rest. Does that answer your questions? You may always ask any questions you have about things like this, never feel embarrassed or like we do not want to discuss them. Though you should know that Uncle Findekáno has trouble talking about these things; some adults do. The other four of us, though, we have no problems. Okay?”

“Is it because Uncle Findekáno hates me?” questioned Eruglar.

Gildor sighed and shook his head. “Eruglar, Uncle Findekáno does not hate you.” Gildor lifted Eruglar onto his lap to give Glorfindel a place to sit, if he cared to navigate the remnants of frosting. “Uncle Findekáno is a father, too. In fact, I think he has the most children of anyone here. I know he has the most grandchildren and great-grandchildren. When his children were about your age, he had to make a very, very tough decision. I was there to counsel him. He sent his children away to protect them. They all survived a horrible war. Uncle Findekáno did not. Papa Mae had to be the one to go tell Uncle Findekáno’s children that their daddy was dead. He never got to see them grow up, or learn things, or make friends, or fall in love or get married. He sees them now, but it would be like someone taking me away from you, and not getting to see you again until you are all grown up. We all lived in a world that was not as nice as this one. Sometimes, mommies and daddies died when their children were still very little, and...sometimes children died before their mommies and daddies did,” he added, looking at Glorfindel, unsure whether to say more.

“It is even more than that, Eruglar, though I am not sure you are able to understand this. Findekáno does not love Findekáno; he is still trying to understand who he is. He found out a big thing yesterday; part of Findekáno is Finya. That is the part of him that is a girl not a boy because not everyone feels all girl or all boy. He did not have a nice time when he was a child; his parents did not know how to love him or support him and a lot of bad things happened to him. That is why he is unhappy; he likes you, Eruglar. He just has many struggles and we love him and are determined to help him feel better but it will take time. There is love here, Eruglar, just like we love you.”

Eruglar was very quiet and had his arms around Gildor’s neck. “Do you have questions about any of this?” Gildor asked. Eruglar shook his head. “I think, after you go inside and apologize, you should probably take a nap until dinner. Even if you cannot fall asleep, it will be good to just lie on your bed and think about everything we talked about. Later, we will talk about what is a better thing to do in situations like the one today. How does that sound?”

“No cake, then?” asked Eruglar.

“What do you think?” asked Gildor.

“No cake,” Eruglar said as he hung his head.

“Go on inside. Glorfindel and I will be right there.” Gildor waited until Eruglar went in and closed the door. Then he immediately flung his arms around Glorfindel. “Thank you. I love you. You are magic. He would have eaten me alive on my own. I love you.”

“Hey, hey, shhhh….” Glorfindel embraced him tightly. “You are alright. You just had a moment. There are going to be a lot of moments. I am going to tell you something else, too. Do not think there are stars coming out of my ass. Erestor and I have done this more than once, and there were times we failed so hard buckets could not hold our misery and our tears – there are things you have not heard about yet and I am not going to tell you beyond this because you do not need to hear about that. It is not going to happen to you. All you need to know is that there are going to be days like this and for all of them we are going to be here.” He soundly kissed Gildor on the lips, then the forehead.

Gildor kissed Glorfindel back. “What you asked about earlier,” he said, changing topics, “I should not have teased you about. Yes. My answer is yes. I am still attracted to you in a variety of ways, and...you were the one who got away. Twice. Because...I can be a jerk. But, a jerk who loves you. I do not know if I can get to it quite as quickly as Mae Mae and Erestor did, but...I think that is what you are eventually hinting at.” He looked at the mess of frosting on the ground. Some curious ants were already investigating. “I used to tell people when I was out traveling that you were my husband. Because it felt like that. Until it did not. I miss that feeling.” He shrugged and looked at Glorfindel for his reaction, tears glistening in his eyes, unshed.

Glorfindel looked away for a moment. When he looked back, his chin was trembling a little and his eyes pooled with moisture ready to overflow. With no comment, he kissed Gildor again, the drops quickly rolling down his cheeks. “I do not want to turn into a blubbering fool,” he sniffled. “Thank you for saying that. I know that being romantic and serious is not really your thing but every now and then I need to hear things like this. Thank you.”

Clinging to Glorfindel, Gildor continued. “I missed you. A lot. And now, I take the advice I just gave my son.” Gildor sat back up but continued to hold Glorfindel’s hands. “I am sorry for everything I put you through. I loved you very much, but I also saw you as a way to get back at Erestor in those years in Rivendell. I should have just told you about the relationship I had with him. It was not fair to you at all. I am sorry.”

“I think…” he said slowly. “I think I am going to want to talk about this more? Because it did hurt. A lot. And I did not understand. Maybe there is nothing to understand but I need to be able to...reconcile my memories against what was real, if that makes any sense? I am still dealing with the aftermath of people deceiving me, in some ways. I do not mean it in any sense of wanting to punish you…” he raised his eyes. “My life has been so confusing and you were...I wanted to see you clearly but knew on some level that I did not. You held the power in our relationships, back then. Both of them. I was in some ways left with few choices.”

Gildor nodded several times as Glorfindel spoke. “I do not think of it as a punishment. Sweetheart, you had me in a very intimate and compromising position earlier today. Nothing feels like a punishment. Maybe part of why I cannot get to the point that Erestor and Mae Mae reached so quickly is that I do not feel my heart was pure for you in those years, and I want it to be before I would even consider that sort of bond with you. It is more that I want you to know I am open to it, and that I recognize the fault was entirely mine in those times before. I am very honored that you even thought to consider giving it another try, to whatever degree that might be. That day I saw you at your wedding to Faelion...I felt like someone ripped my heart from my chest, threw it onto the ground, and stomped on it. And I thought, this is how I made this poor man feel, over and over again. And I deserved that. I really did. When you got away from him, it was such relief. I thought about you constantly when the two of you were together, got pissed with what I would learn from Lindir now and again. So glad you are not there. But then, I consider it and I think, was I all that much better than he was? And the answer is, not really. You deserved better. I am glad you found it. I am glad they found you.”

The door opened, and Maedhros came out on the stoop. “I wanted to give you an update. Eruglar came in, apologized to everyone, promised Asfaloth he would not touch his hair without permission, hugged everyone, hugged Findekáno twice, once for him and once for Finya, and took himself up to bed to ‘reflect on his naughtiness’. Then he came back down, and told Erestor he was sorry for eavesdropping, and then ran back up again. So Erestor needs to know what that is all about, and we all had a discussion about shopping. Erestor needs more rest, Findekáno is overwhelmed, you need a bath, you need to rest your wrist, and I am old and sleepy. We thought it would be best to wait until tomorrow, and then we would have all day instead of rushing through the shops in the hour or two we would have before they all close for the day. That way, we can go to the market, too, if we need anything.”

“I vote for what you said,” Glorfindel blurted almost too quickly, then bit both of his lips and blushed a little and sort of grabbed Gildor like a security blanket with the wrist that was functional. He had more to say but it felt too personal to say in front of Maedhros.

“Excellent. Findekáno is wrapping up some food for our guests to take with them; they are insisting upon leaving the cakes. I am going to go back and help with that, if the two of you want to finish up here and then come in to say farewell.” Maedhros retreated back inside and shut the door.

“Shall we?” asked Gildor.

“Yes, but to be continued. I love you, Gildor,” Glorfindel said sincerely.

“I love you, too, Glorfindel.”


	11. Chapter 11

More and more often, the kitchen was becoming the council chamber of the house, and in the early morning hours it was no exception. Findekáno entered, somewhat expecting to find Glorfindel and Erestor there. The pair was sitting across from one another at the table--Glorfindel in a fluffy pink and yellow robe with matching slippers, and Erestor in comfortable leggings and not another stitch. Neither said a word about the length of fabric Findekáno had wrapped several times loosely around his waist and legs and tucked in to create a many layered skirt, nor the delicate pale blue shirt that dipped down at the neckline and had shimmery ribbon decorating it, nor that neither of these items were anything they knew existed in the house. Erestor, however, could not keep quiet about the way that Findekáno was wearing his hair. “You were holding out on me,” he teased when Findekáno sat down at the head of the table. In case there was question as to what he meant, Erestor tapped the pieces of leather that had been braided and used to hold his hair back.

“I found them up in...uhm, desk in the library,” said Findekáno. “I remembered what you said this morning. I hope it meets your expectations.”

“Cake?” offered Glorfindel, for it seemed that this late night excursion had been to claim a few pieces of the treats from earlier.

Findekáno shook his head. “Just...nervous about tomorrow. Or, today. I never had these problems when I was living by myself. Not that I meant it like that--I like being here with everyone. I just...being alone can be easier sometimes. I had less emotions that way.” He sighed. “Do you think I am crazy?” he blurted out.

Glorfindel and Erestor exchanged a startled look. “Honey...I...all of us have our own troubles,” began Glorfindel. “We can all use a little help and understanding and assistance and…” He looked at Erestor and his expression clearly was one that spoke a single word:  _ Help! _

Erestor poked at his cake. “Some people might say that about me,” he said. “My drug abuse, my alcoholism...is this...may I ask where this is coming from? Is it something you are thinking about now, or have you been dwelling on this for a while?”

“I spoke with Gildor yesterday,” said Findekáno. “Or, the day before. Anyhow, I am trying to sort out my thoughts and my feelings, and I had questions for him about anxiety and I asked him what I asked you, but I never really got an answer, and that makes me think, either he forgot or it is yes--”

“He probably forgot,” piped up Glorfindel. “You should, uh, ask him again. Not at this exact moment, but, he is the expert.”

“The expert in crazy?”

“No! No, I just mean, he has more knowledge than any of us when it comes to matters of mental health, which is what I think you are asking about, and maybe he was trying to come up with a comprehensive answer, and maybe now we are all just too close for him to feel he can answer that objectively--”

“Then I am crazy.”

“Sweetie, I concur with Glorfindel,” cut in Erestor. “We should have this conversation with Gildor present. I have my own thoughts and feelings, but I would like to have his opinion and his professional views present.”

“It seems rather simple. Either I am or I am not. The more people avoid talking about it, the more I think I must be. Of course, if I am, maybe there is more wrong with me than just that. This is sounding worse the more I talk. I need to stop talking--actually, that was--” Findekáno’s stomach growled. “Maitimo sent me down. I was keeping him awake with my stomach. I guess I really did not eat much today.”

“Would you like me to make something for you, darling?” asked Glorfindel carefully. “I would be happy to.”

“No, I can get something, I think…” Findekáno left the chair and walked across the room, and both of his husbands admired the view. The steps Findekáno was taking were slower and more graceful, whether imagined, purposed, or an effect of the flowing fabric. No, not just the fabric--he was experimenting. Glorfindel caught it first and reached out to squeeze Erestor’s hand. The slightest sway in his step, not the ridgid march of the athlete they were familiar with. “Cheese,” they heard Findekáno say as he was looking in the larder. “An apple and some cheese.”

“Hmm...makes me want to get some wine,” mused Glorfindel. “Wine with cake?”

“I will drink to that,” said Erestor, but he was trying to study Findekáno without being obvious about it.

“It seems too late for wine--or perhaps too early,” mused Findekáno, who returned with a plate that had some cheese and an apple in his other hand.

“Well, there is more than one way to wine,” Erestor informed him. “There is watering it down, which some consider to be the ultimate sacrilege but really, it can make it more drinkable without making it undrinkable. It was a very old custom gone by the wayside so long ago that I refuse to discuss that part. There is also warming it, adding some honey and a few spices, and then it is a much better companion for either cake or the comestibles in your possession.” 

“You are so sexy when you know things,” Glorfindel sighed.

“I do what I may to please you, my sunflower. Hold down the table while I go find a bottle. I suppose it would be idiotic not to take at least a candle down there.”

“Unless your talents include feeling the writing on the labels, probably.” The blond smiled winningly and took a nibble of cake.

“I can come help. I wanted pickles anyhow, but I was not about to just go down for pickles.” Findekáno ate a slice of cheese as he stood up and went to the door while he waited for Erestor to retrieve the candle of his choice.

“How is it you can find this too late for wine but a fine time for pickles?” Erestor wanted to know, descending first to light the way for Findekáno. “Wine is wine but pickles are outright vinegar, are they not? Or is this back to, Erestor cannot smell nor taste a damn thing again ergo this is a silly question?”

“Pickle brine is good for restoring vitality to the body--at least, I had a coach, one of the good ones, who told me that. And pickles are good and crunchy, especially out of a wooden barrel outside the fabric store my mother used to go to when she needed cheesecloth. I wonder if the same wooden barrel is out there,” Findekáno considered as he followed closely down the dark passageway.

“I certainly hope not,” Erestor wrinkled his nose. “I read about this in the agricultural section. What makes the pickles crunchy is the tannins. So surely the wood needs renewing every so often? Or do they just scrape the wood...you know what, rather than fuck this all up I think I shall be quiet until I can check the reference again.”

“I would doubt it simply based on how long ago it was. I do not even know if that shop is still there.” Reaching the second basement, pickles were in a variety of places along the way, but the wine was straight ahead. “Wine first, then pickles on the way back?” suggested Findekáno, for while there were whole dills and jars of spears and teeny tiny pickles in much smaller jars, there were only three recipes, and they were easy to tell from the ribbons tied around them. Findekáno preferred the bite-sized versions best, and did not favor the bread-and-butter variety, so his choice was easily this or that on their return trip.

“Of course, love. I do not want to stay down here too long, my back still feels off and cold will not help it. I just want something red, not too heavy. If you recall seeing anything suitable I am open to suggestions.”

Findekáno put an arm around Erestor and gave a little snuggle. “But you must admit, it is a little romantic to be down here with just the candle. Ah, here we go, a lovely selection of reds.” Findekáno frowned at the collection of empty bottles on the floor. “I thought we were collecting the empties out in the shed?”

“We are…” Erestor frowned. “I want to theorize that a well-meaning guest helping to clean up might have brought these here, except I checked this area after the reception. So I am finding this to be most peculiar. But there are Gildor and Asfaloth to ask, Mae as well, and I am not waking them over empty bottles.”

While Erestor spoke, Findekáno slid away, his hand staying on Erestor’s arm a moment before it slipped off and he continued past the wine, walking softly only to pause after a few steps. He closed his eyes and tilted his head, and then motioned that Erestor should keep talking while Findekáno moved along the perimeter, obviously listening for something.

“Anyhow. Before you came down Fin and I were speaking of how the afternoon went and we were entertaining ourselves with visions of what Turgon would have done back in Gondolin if any one of us had been the cake monster at his court. We were having the most fun when…” he broke down into giggles… “I am sorry, Káno, but though I swore fealty to your brother I almost believe that Eru made him to be poked fun at because there were a few too many times when Turgon had this look on his face as though his Royal Majesty had just been served up a platter full of unripe lemons after having been kept from…” for a moment no one knew what further comparisons Erestor had concocted, because he was too busy howling with laughter at his apparently vivid visualizations.

The laughter was just what Findekáno needed. He leaped over a crate and grabbed hold of the rope for the dumbwaiter. He gave it a tug, frowned, and then jumped up to grab the rope higher and between pulling and gravity managed to move the lift down low enough that one could barely make out feet in shiny black boots at the bottom part of the lift. Findekáno turned and looked wide-eyed at Erestor, but jumped up again to get hold of the rope once more. “Let go of the break cord, intruder!” he shouted in his loudest and gruffest voice possible.

“What in the...who is in there?!” Erestor demanded with all the sort-of indignation he could muster. “Enough silly games, or do you enjoy living on wine? Come out of there so we can discuss this like adults. Honestly!” 

“Some of us like to live on wine!” came the answer back. The cord was released, Findekáno nearly toppled to the ground in the least graceful manner possible (thank goodness for gymnastics training), and was readily standing with arms crossed over his chest as Thranduil emerged from the lift, a half-open bottle of wine in one hand and an open jar of pickles in the other. “Nice to see you again, both of you,” he said as he shook out his blond mane, which could certainly have benefitted from a brushing. “Have you tried the Second Age cherry blossom wine? It does not say Second Age, because of course here they never really understood that concept, but I know how to interpret the marks. Very bright and smooth,” he commended.

Listening in disbelief, Erestor crammed the candle into the open wine bottle, snatched wine bottle and pickles to hand to Findekáno, and shook his head at their errant ‘guest.’ “May I have the use of your sash, Thranduil?” His hand was held out expectantly.

“Only if you promise not to strangle me with it,” said Thranduil as he unknotted it and held out the length of red fabric. To Findekáno, he said, “You should really try the wine.”

Findekáno sipped from the jar of pickles instead.

Erestor arranged the fabric as a makeshift veil. Once satisfied, he glanced up, smiling while his face never betrayed that his left hand was landing one hell of a decent slap on Thranduil’s cheek. “I promise not to strangle you with it. The fuck are you  _ doing here _ ?! In our dumbwaiter when I rather specifically and repeatedly told you to GET OUT in response to your salacious requests for...for…” Erestor went silent. “Thranduil, Erestor is rather exasperated. It has been a very long day with attempts at recuperation and...cake monsters. I am supposed to be enjoying cake and wine and relaxing. What are you doing here?” The tone had taken on a timbre not heard in awhile.

Before Thranduil could answer, Findekáno said, “Choose your words carefully. He promised not to strangle you. I just need to set these down, and it could still happen. This is a massive basement, and as you learned, no one comes down here often--”

“Is he threatening me?” questioned Thranduil.

“--and it is not like I have not hidden a body or five before. I would say I need the sash or a sword, but I know how to kill people with my bare hands--”

“He is threatening me!” Thranduil took a step closer to Erestor, despite the mark on his cheek.

“--and I am very, very good at keeping secrets.” Findekáno took another sip of pickle brine.

“He knows what I have been through, he loves me, and right now I am not the only one that is extremely angered to find you here. Our long history is about the only reason I have stopped at a slap, Thranduil. I am owed an explanation. Now.”

“I only intended to come down to sample the wine,” explained Thranduil. “I may have sampled a few more than I intended, and my wife might have told me that she had things she wanted to do that I did not want to do, and we agreed that we would meet back in town. Now, it turns out, your basement locks from the other side--did you know that? So actually, I have been your prisoner down here.” He had been sneaking a hand out for the wine bottle and stealthily retrieved it and took a swig.

“Eruglar could do better than that.” Nothing about Erestor’s tone or expression changed. “Do better than Eruglar, quickly. I can feel my back pulling again.”

“Eruglar?”

“A child,” said Findekáno, speaking low and calm, but not without malice. “You speak like a child who is withholding information. My brother used to tell me stories about you and Ecthelion when you would try to--”

“Alright, alright,” Thranduil said with a wave of his arm. “I explored the rooms when I could not get out, and I found this contraption, which I found very interesting, and I tried to use it to go up. Which I did. And...I may have been able to conduct some research.” Thranduil took another swig of wine. “By the way, congratulations to you and Maedhros,” he said.

Findekáno set the jar of pickles down on the crate and cracked his knuckles. “I hold him, you punch him?” Unseen by the trio, the rope of the dumbwaiter began to move soundlessly.

“Please do hold him, Káno,” Erestor asked calmly.

Even with a half-full bottle of wine and wearing formal robes, Thranduil was able to dodge his way out of arm’s reach. “Erestor, we are practically family--and truly, I had no intention of the second thing. I really had no intention of the first, but it was really quite tempting...besides, would it have been any better had I opened the door and popped into whatever was happening?”

“The dumbwaiter does not open into the bedroom,” Findekáno informed him. He did not move closer to Thranduil, but he did move to block him from the exit. You were on the other side of the wall.”

“How was I to know that? It was certainly loud enough to sound like I was going to open the door into the bedroom,” defended Thranduil.

Findekáno glanced at Erestor. “Maybe you should hold him and I can punch him.”

“I can hold him and punch him.” The voice belonged to whomever was in the dumbwaiter, which reached the ground again. Squished into the compartment was Maedhros, who emerged both comically and in such a way that Thranduil took two steps back this time. “Are you familiar with the story of the three goats and the troll who lived under the bridge?” asked Maedhros.

“I have a feeling I am soon to be acquainted,” Thranduil said as he craned his neck to look up at Maedhros.

“Mae, please. I only wanted to make sure of one thing – whether he lingered to eavesdrop on my wedding to you, a moment sacred in my mind and heart.” Erestor’s eyes pooled with tears, though his voice remained remarkably steady. “All that I have endured in my life came from people that I tell myself at least did not care about me. Not really. I suppose you really cannot understand, Thranduil, for back then I could not tell you. You are missing so much information...and that is still no excuse for this. I do not want him hit so much as I want him made to comprehend what he did. Mae, Káno; I feel sick and want to leave this basement. I hope you do not mind. Do bring our guest along. Him just getting to waltz off sits poorly with me.”

“I truly apologize--but I cannot imagine you would have wanted me to waltz into the room you were in at the time you were all having your heart-to-heart--”

“Stop.” Maedhros brushed a cobweb out of his hair. It was evident he had only just been sleeping a few minutes earlier. “I want details, now, of everything you overheard. Details on who you heard, how long you were there, and if you wrote anything down for your ‘research’.”

“Do I look like I have anywhere to write anything down?” asked Thranduil. When Maedhros narrowed his gaze, Thranduil said, “I went up, I heard three people. I easily recognized Erestor. I was pretty sure from the low and high voices, it was the two of you,” he said as he motioned the bottle of wine between Maedhros and Findekáno. “There was discussion over something that had occurred between Erestor and Maedhros, from what I could gather the two of you must have formed a union, and then there was some talk after that. Something about Erestor being a conductor, and sex happening, and while I would have liked to have stayed, I brought myself back down here. At least I had the wine to look forward to.”

Maedhros glanced at Erestor.  _ At least it would seem he was not there when it was just you and I. _

_ Alright, I...then I overreacted but fuck everything, not without reason and for the love of all that is holy can we please get out of this goddamn cellar I love you and Káno to pieces but I want to throw shit and I already acted like that once already today. I only want to get in touch with myself so much in twenty four hours.  _ Erestor rubbed his eyes.

Findekáno fished a pickle out of the jar while he listened. “If you heard specific words and phrases, then that means you heard the entire conversation. Erestor is quieter than the two of us,” he remarked. “Anything else you overheard that you care to admit to?”

“I went down shortly after the conductor comment.”

“Before all of that,” said Findekáno.

Thranduil cleared his throat. “None of my business,” he said.

“I cannot help but notice your inability to make eye-contact with me,” said Findekáno.

Thranduil shook the bottle a bit as he motioned with his hand. “It just...it seems...you are in...you have some things...different life things...transitional events…”

“Maedhros,” said Findekáno firmly. “Would you mind escorting Erestor back upstairs with a bottle of the sweet red cardinal blend from Tirion?” he asked. “We need to have a meeting of monarchs, if you do not mind.”

Erestor welcomed Maedhros’ hands guiding him to the exit, he leaned into their warmth and began finding solidarity in their shared conversation. Promises of kisses and some lap time improved the scholar’s outlook on the episode, insofar as that was possible since his feelings were genuinely hurt.

“I think I made the best choices possible considering the situation,” said Thranduil.

“I am not still here with you to discuss your latent homosexuality--”

“Excuse me?!”

“--or your “scientific” pursuits. If you really wanted to get out of the basement, knock on the damned door or call for help. Breaking and entering--”

“You leave the doors unlocked.”

“--thievery--”

“Technically, I was told to ‘try the wine’,” added Thranduil.

“--losing the trust of your best friend--”

“That I fucked up,” admitted Thranduil.

“--are the reasons we are having this discussion. And me. Will you please look at me?”

Thranduil took a deep breath. For a moment, he flicked his gaze in Findekáno’s direction, and then it was away again.

“Am I truly that hideous?”

“No, that is ridiculous. No.” Thranduil rubbed at his left eyelid and then focused directly upon Findekáno. “This is just very different. What this is, what you look like right now, is very strange to me.” Thranduil frowned when Findekáno looked away. “I did not say ‘bad’, I just mean--”

“Before you say anything else,” advised Findekáno, “may I remind you that you are alone in a sub basement with a kinslayer whose husband you just greatly upset?”

“Noted.” Thranduil coughed. “I have obviously made some poor decisions--”

“Do not apologize to me,” warned Findekáno. “If you want to seek forgiveness, spend your words on Erestor.”

“You are really angry at me,” Thranduil recognized.

“No, I am really disappointed in you,” shot back Findekáno. “We know we should hold ourselves to a higher standard. Whatever games you were playing to hang out in a basement for two days are unacceptable! All you really had to do was ask to visit, at another time. Now, if you value your friendship with Erestor, I would suggest going upstairs and kneeling before him and hoping he takes pity on your...whatever the hell this was,” scolded Findekáno.

Thranduil nodded. As he passed back, Findekáno yanked the bottle from him. He waited until he could hear Thranduil on the second set of stairs going up before he sat down on the crate next to the pickle jar. 

Cradling the wine, Findekáno squinted as he looked at the label before he took a drink. “You know,” he said in the darkness as he played with the hem of the makeshift skirt, “I cannot protect you when you can be seen by others. You are safer if you stay hidden. I know how nice it was, for those moments the other night.” He shut his eyes, remembering the hours spent at the Peacock. “We have memories. Memories are good. We can hold onto those. But...if different and strange are what friends will say, just imagine what strangers would think.” The bottle of wine was left abandoned with the pickles, and after a long look at the stairway, Findekáno climbed into the dumbwaiter to transport himself up where he could hastily change into sleeping pants and burrow into bed next to snoring Gildor.

An hour later, when the first hints of daylight were streaking across the sky, Thranduil was sent off with Asfaloth (to make sure the king did not stagger his way off a pier) and a sack containing three bottles of wine and very explicit instructions not to enter the house again without first knocking or ringing the bell. Maedhros yawned and stretched as he regarded the door. “We should get locks.”

“Locks mean carrying keys. Carrying keys means forgetting the keys. All of the major doors have locks,” said Glorfindel. “We have one king in this house--I do not think I can handle two.”

Maedhros smirked. “Me, either,” he teased.

“Speaking of kings,” said Erestor, who was rubbing his head after the emotional distress he had suffered, “does anyone know where Findekáno is? I never saw him come up from the basement, but he was not there when we went to get wine for Thranduil.” Erestor now pulled the makeshift veil from his head. He momentarily realized that it belonged to Thranduil, but now as he looked at it and admired the rich fabric, decided it was his on account of the intrusion. He put it around his neck and finished his glass of wine.

“I did not see him down there,” confirmed Glorfindel. “Is it possible that he made it past us without us seeing him?”

“Except we were either here or downstairs,” Maedhros said. Then he snapped his fingers. “The dumbwaiter. He could have taken that up just like I took it down.”

“We should check to make sure,” Glorfindel said before he yawned. “Also, we should probably try to get some rest before tomorrow.” He placed his hands on Erestor’s shoulders. “Are you going to be alright?” he asked.

Wiping his bleary eyes, Erestor said, “I never wanted to hit him. I detest violence.”

“He deserved it. And then some,” Maedhros assured him.

“But I have to get a better hold of myself. Élarminë wants me to serve in a house of peace--and I just slapped my best friend in my house.” Erestor sighed.

“He did not seem particularly upset about it,” Glorfindel remarked. He cleaned up the dishes from cake and now saw the abandoned plate of food left by Findekáno. “Shit. He never came back to eat.”

“King, interrupted,” said Maedhros as he picked up the apple. “Just in case he is still awake, I can at least take this up to him.”

Glorfindel cuddled against Erestor while they ascended the stairs. “He was pretty drunk,” whispered Glorfindel when they approached the second landing. “And drunk for Thranduil is really drunk. If all he was doing down there was eating pickles and drinking wine--wine that has in many cases far higher alcohol content than anything I remember drinking in Mirkwood--imagine what proof his blood is right now. He was slurring words and I do not think you really hurt him. Even if you did, he might not remember it.”

“I appreciate your words, Glorfindel,” said Erestor softly. “Still. I lost control of myself.”

“I remember when he asked us if he could watch what we were doing, and you allowed him, but you were so nervous the whole time. And it was weird, how he was taking notes and would mumble to himself about things and how he even came over at one point to take my pulse--”

“He what? I did not know about that,” Erestor said with a frown.

“So this is habitual?” asked Maedhros, who was slowly walking behind them.

Erestor looked over his shoulder. “Thranduil has been documenting sexuality and sex acts since at least Middle-earth, but possibly earlier. I am a little unclear on that part of his hobby.”

“He usually asks first, or he just shows up like he did?” Maedhros stopped, for they were in the third floor hallway, and a few more steps would take them to the bedroom.

“He asks. Lord, I hope he asks. I truly hope he does not break into wine cellars and then sneak up to hear what people are up to,” winced Erestor. “He was very open about it, too. He outright asked Celeborn and Galadriel.”

“Did either of them slap him?” wondered Maedhros with a smirk, knowing his cousin only too well, but the answer surprised him.

“They actually went to Mirkwood. He had a room set up there where he could observe from a hallway that surrounded most of the room, and secret peeping holes to watch whomever was in the room. It was apparently quite a draw for some; the room was very plush, and he had staff to take care of every need of whomever was in the room.” Erestor started to blush. “Galadriel has a...you know the kitten thing with Findekáno?”

Maedhros nodded slowly.

“Runs in the family,” Erestor said hastily.

“Well. I never expected to learn that.” Maedhros rolled the apple from one hand to the other. “Sounds like the two of you went there.”

“Actually, he came to our home in Valinor, after we arrived. It went back to something that happened in the Hall of Fire one night. He just looked over at Elrond and Celebrian and began with ‘So, Elrond’, and Elrond, without looking up calmly said ‘No, thank you’, which was followed by him looking over to Gildor. At the time, Gildor and Glorfindel were together, they were together from the end of the war through to...well, almost the entire Third Age, I suspect,” mused Erestor.

Glorfindel nodded his head.

Erestor tilted his. “Is it possible that the two of you had the longest sustained relationship of any of us.”

“Maybe,” Glorfindel said with a shifty expression. He took over the storytelling. “Thranduil turned to Gildor, and said, ‘So Gildor,’ and Gildor burst out laughing. And Thranduil continued with, ‘So is that a yes or a no?’ and Gildor leaned back in his chair and looked Thranduil over and said, ‘If you suck on my cock, I will let you watch me masturbate for an hour’, and Thranduil frowned and said he was being rude and that it was very serious scientific necessity, and Elrond rolled his eyes, and Thranduil looked to Erestor.”

“And then he said to me, ‘You understand my scientific pursuits, right, Erestor?’ and, of course, he was my friend, and he had funded my school in Middle-earth, and he was...sort of my king? And my confidant. And...I said, ‘I think, so long as it is for science, it is important research to conduct,’ and Thranduil said, ‘I knew you would understand! I look forward to studying your sexual preferences once you are wed.’ and...I was quite honestly speechless, but I said nothing, and Gildor smirked, and then years later, Glorfindel and I arrived here, and we did not think anything of it,” said Erestor. “And then one day, he just showed up with an overnight bag and his little black notepad and I thought, oh hells. And he had not had a single homosexual couple to study the entire time, so I agreed, begrudgingly, but it was some of the worst sex because I worried the entire time. I told him it was inaccurate and not to use it, but he pouted over it being the only same-gender example, and I did not want to have no representation what-so-ever, so I know he wrote about it.” 

“Is he really doing it for scientific research?” asked Maedhros.

Erestor and Glorfindel glanced at each other. “He does write books,” Erestor eventually said.

“Have you read any of them?” asked Maedhros.

Erestor shrugged. Glorfindel shook his head.

“Not right now, but at a future time, I am curious. I would like to see what he has been up to,” said Maedhros.

Erestor fidgeted with the sash he had claimed. “You...you do not want to have him watch us, do you? I...if that that is what you desire, I...I need a blindfold, and--”

“No, sweetness.” Maedhros kissed the top of Erestor’s head while Glorfindel rubbed Erestor’s back. “No, I would never subject you to that. I am still just a little uncertain about the fact that Findekáno was watching us for part of it, without us knowing he was there. I do not want an audience, and I certainly do not want an audience taking my pulse mid-thrust.”

Glorfindel giggled.

“However, Gildor and I know a lot of people, and I can think of a few who, if he is still seeking out homosexual and even bisexual relations, would be willing to allow him to observe,” said Maedhros. When Glorfindel yawned again, Maedhros said, “We should get to bed.” He motioned to the door behind Erestor, which was opened to reveal that Findekáno had indeed made it to bed and was curled up with Gildor, who was drooling on Findekáno’s shoulder. 

“If only I had time to capture that in a painting,” whispered Glorfindel as he stripped off his clothing and carefully crawled into bed. Erestor was soon joining him and beckoned to Maedhros.

The apple was set above the fireplace on the mantle, but Maedhros paused to look in at the pile of burning logs. Something caught his eye, and he stooped down for a moment to look. He frowned at the pale blue threads of scorched fabric under the flames. It seemed only the headband Findekáno had been wearing was spared, left to hang on a peg on the wall. The rest of the clothing was no more than ash, save for the few tattling scraps that would likely be gone by the morning.

“Everything alright?” whispered Erestor from the bed.

Maedhros took up one of the iron pokers and turned one of the crackling logs. “Just like my father, but setting it on fire does not mean it did not exist,” he softly said to the flames, words covered by the noise from the fire and Gildor’s snoring. He stood and went to join the others in bed. As he wrapped an arm around Erestor, he whispered, “Thank you for your honesty with me.”

“Did something--”

Maedhros silenced Erestor with a kiss. “Just know that I suspect we need Edrahil here more than we realize.”


	12. Chapter 12

When plans were made for the shopping trips, it was decided that the family from the cottage would travel to the house of their new friends. Glorfindel and Eruglar would spend the afternoon there while others went about their business in town, and everyone would meet back at the seaside estate for an early supper together. 

It was easy for them to find--the house was described as two stories, sprawling, and painted blue and green, with lots of ‘peacock-colored’ flowers adorning the grounds. “This must be it,” said Maedhros. He and Erestor were riding at the front of the group, followed by Glorfindel and Gildor, with Eruglar riding with Gildor, and finally Findekáno in the rear. 

It was conspired to have Findekáno ride Asfaloth so that he could not accidentally fall behind, something that was a concern after he second, third, and fourth guessed the trip that morning. During one such moment of uncertainty when Findekáno locked himself in the washroom while allegedly looking for a comb (despite his comb being held by Glorfindel, who was on the other side of the door), Maedhros pulled the other adults aside and told them what he had found in the fire early that morning. 

“I did not want to wake everyone up over it,” Maedhros explained. “Maybe we should send someone to apologize and explain we need to reschedule, and wait until Edrahil can stop by before we let him out of the house.”

“He will have suspicions,” said Glorfindel. “If we can get him out the door, I have no doubt we will make it to our destination.”

“We should have asked them to come here instead,” said Gildor.

Erestor shook his head. “It would have been impolite not to accept their invitation. Maybe he will be able to calm down once he is with friends again.” Erestor hushed his voice as they all heard the doorknob turn and scattered before Findekáno could emerge. Silently the comb was retrieved from Glorfindel, and somehow, they had eventually made it out of the house and all the way to where they were now, greeted by the fragrance of flowers.

“Look at those flowers!” Glorfindel gasped. “That was the name of my house once, Eruglar. The House of the Golden Flower. Though, none of these are really golden but that is alright. All flowers are good flowers. Is that not right, Gildor?”

“All flowers are good,” agreed Gildor. “Do I spy a treehouse? And a slide? Children certainly live here--or, fun adults. We already know about them.” Eruglar clapped with excitement upon seeing a small group of ponies grazing in the yard.

“I do not want to be grown up today,” Glorfindel said, seeing the fun things. “I want to play on the slide.”

Erestor held Maedhros’ hand tightly. Today he wore a very attractive outfit of a fitted teal colored tunic with silver embroidery, pale blue trousers and black suede boots with his fanciest veil; black but with elaborate decoration at the edges also in shades of blue, a geometric pattern that caught the highlights in his eyebrows and lashes. Even covered, he was a very striking beauty.

The door opened, and Élarminë waved to them from the front porch. A moment later, two girls, one a little younger than Eruglar, and the other slightly older, bounded out of the house. The younger of the pair was carrying a tattered plush pig which had probably been pink at one time but was now grey-pink with faded blue paint on three of four hooves and a green checkered patch on one ear, which was shorter than the other. “I see you found us!” called out Élarminë as the girls continued to run towards the gate to greet their visitors.

“Yes!” Erestor waved excitedly, entranced at the sight of the children, but he waited for Maedhros to help him down. His back was better but not good, and he was not about to risk it tipping into another spasm while it healed. He thanked his mate profusely once on the ground and went to greet Élarminë. They had already agreed that Maedhros would go see to Findekáno (or Finya, depending on who arrived with them) right away and be the escort to the house; Erestor could walk just fine. “Hello!” he said to the girls. “I am Erestor and a big boy and a little boy are here to play today. Would you like to meet them?”

“Yay!” The little girl hopped up and down, the pig swung about by its tail. The older girl stopped and gave a curtsey. “Dis is Alberfff!” The little one held out the pig.

“She means ‘Albert’. She had two teeth fall out last week, so she spits a lot, but she does not mean it,” said the older girl. “And I am Váyana and she is Airindë. Atyo said there was only one boy coming over.”

“Well the big boy is actually my husband Glorfindel, he is going to stay with Eruglar, but he likes to be a kid too. I know he wants to try your slide if you will let him? He is a lot of fun and very friendly.” Erestor looked back slyly and carefully leaned down. “Do not tell him I told you this but he happens to know how to make flower posies better than anyone I have ever met. He could be a flower-seller. I know he would show you if you said you wanted to know how.”

Élarminë had ducked back into the house, but was now approaching with two ladies, one on either side. The lady to his right bore a slight resemblance to him; she had her arm linked to his and was laughing at something he had said to her. On the other side was a woman whose hair could not be seen, for she had a similar covering to Erestor’s. Her scarf was more tightly tucked around and she had several adornments that pinned it back and to the side. Beside her was a youth who had more modest covering, but it was very loose, and the ends were held with each hand so that the extra fabric fanned out behind. The youth’s clothing was much less for play than that of the girls. Erestor observed that neither of the veiled individuals wore shoes. This was in contrast to the grown siblings, still laughing as they came to stop by the gate, for they were garbed not in the traditional Vanyarin clothing, but in current Noldorin fashion. Élarminë’s sister wore several pieces of jewelry, all of them shimmering and sparkling. “Welcome to our home,” announced Élarminë. “My sister, Eärenya. She is my twin. My wife and better half, Edlothiel. She is the beautiful mother of all three of my children. You have met our daughters, it seems, and Albert, an honored member of the household. And this is my eldest, Astaren. Please use Astaren’s name. Astaren does not prefer pronouns.”

Astaren stepped forward and bowed. “It is a pleasure.” Astaren stepped back. 

From what Erestor saw physically, without the information from Élarminë, Erestor might have labeled the youth as ‘he’ in his mind, but he nodded thankfully and immediately reached out with his mind to everyone from the cottage (save for Eruglar) to provide them with this knowledge. As expected, there was a sudden spark of interest, and he knew exactly who that was from.

The others all approached, but Maedhros made sure to step so he was behind Findekáno, and to press his hand on Findekáno’s lower back to encourage him to join Erestor up front. “Uh, I...good day. And...nice to meet you all,” he said, despite missing most of the names. There was only one in his head. “Are you...Astaren?”

Astaren nodded. “Are you Finya?”

“Uhm...some...sometimes.”

Erestor proudly placed his arm around Findekáno’s waist. “Sometimes, Findekáno. I am deeply in love with whoever I am blessed to stand alongside for Eru has truly given me a gift. May I also introduce the rest of our family? Here is Glorfindel, with golden hair, and Gildor Inglorion holding Eruglar. Maedhros stands here too. Many of us are espoused to each other; rather than confuse you, maybe it is easier if we tell you we are a loving family all very closely knit and each caring deeply for all the others. We thank you so much for your invitation,” he concluded with a lovely smile.

“It is truly a blessing for all of us to be here together today. Let us say a prayer unto Eru for this meeting.” Élarminë took hold of his sister’s hand on one side and his wife’s hand on the other. Maedhros and Gildor exchanged uncomfortable looks immediately; Váyana bounded over and grabbed hold of one of Maedhros’ hands and the free hand that Gildor had before they had a chance to step back. 

Airindë walked up to Gildor and Eruglar and held up her stuffed pig. “You can hold Alberfff’s hand wiff me,” she offered.

“Thanks!” Eruglar, not entirely understanding what was happening, leaned down to grasp the tattered back leg of Albert while Airindë held onto a front hoof. She held out her other hand to Glorfindel, who smiled and took hold of it.

Astaren thrust a hand out to Findekáno, who shakily took hold, and slid his other hand over to Erestor. When the two families were joined together by hands in something that more resembled a squiggle than a circle, Élarminë spoke praises to Eru, and added blessings for both families, and even included Asfaloth, who was still in horse form and was just about to invite himself into the stable when his ears perked and he cantered back over to the group to stand as respectfully as one could when it was painfully obvious that mares were on the mind. As soon as the prayer was over, hands were let go, but Astaren continued to hold Findekáno’s hand. “My uncle said to bring you to him when you arrived. This way.” And before Findekáno could protest, he was being half-pulled to the house, stumbling until he matched the gait of the youth.

“We are going with him until he is secure,” Erestor told Maedhros. “It is really important that this go well for him. Which it will, but it is equally important he not feel like we are abandoning him to this because we know he needs it. Which he does. I know you know what I mean.” The chocolate eyes blinked up at him. “Right?”

Edlothiel stepped forward. “Please. Give them, just a few minutes. I do not think it will go badly. We will all join them in a moment. It was important for Ninquitar and Cesanyë. You see, they stayed up all night. The house is decorated.”

“We helped!” shouted Airindë. “Even Alberfff!” 

“Yes, Albert was very helpful,” said Edlothiel. She continued to address Erestor. “It is a ‘birthday party’. For Finya. You understand?”

“That...yes, that is so kind of you...my words...I just realized how they could have sounded. We trust all of you. It is that we see him suffer with his own fear and uncertainty every day and it is a very hard thing because we love him. We only want him to feel reassured that we are right here for him, even though you have managed to do for him in hours what we could not. For my part I will do whatever you ask; I only want to help my spouse. Our spouse,” he corrected.

“It was mostly Ninquitar. Manyanar wanted to play some board games and do a little reading, and from the moment my brother got home, it was all he talked about,” said Eärenya. “He kept saying ‘but what if we’ until Manyanar gave in. So there is cake, and some presents, just a few guests--a few other peacocks and hens, not many just a few. Ninquitar said that Finya is quite shy, but maybe does not even realize this. They were up all night. The children all helped. Astaren was very excited. Astaren might not seem so, but, there is much excitement.”

“Is it time for cake yet, Amya?” asked Váyana.

“Not just yet,” her father said.

“I like cake,” spoke up Eruglar. 

Gildor decided it was safe enough to put Eruglar down, and did so. “You need to make sure you stay inside this gate unless a grown-up is holding your hand, alright? And that grown-up has to be Glorfindel or Maedhros or me, or Erestor or Findekáno. Alright?”

“What about Finya?” tested Eruglar.

Gildor narrowed his eyes just a little.

“Sorry,” Eruglar said softly.

Gildor patted his son’s head.

“With either Fin there are a lot of complicated feelings,” Glorfindel told Edlothiel. “It was mentioned to me that one of them identified social anxiety which is very much a serious issue but not one that was quite recognized so we owe a debt of gratitude for raising that discussion as well. There are many conversations we know we need to have; you see, Gildor and Maedhros lived on the mainland and had come for a vacation that rekindled old loves and healed old wounds and now the vacation is permanent. Gildor is trained as a healer, both of body and mind, but there is the issue of being too close to one’s patients. There is much we have to address, and there are not words for the feeling that Eru has sent a great blessing in the form of the chance meeting that happened between us and Ninquitar and Manyanar..and Cesanyë. But all of this is so serious, and here you have this beautiful garden, and ponies! Will you tell us a little about your home?”

“I would love to give you a tour, but I think it will not be long before we are summoned,” said Edlothiel politely. 

“And then we get cake,” Váyana said very seriously.

“I like cake,” Eruglar reminded everyone.

“Do you know who makes the best cake, and whose parents are professional bakers?” Glorfindel smiled, kneeling down to talk to Eruglar.

“Nope!” said Eruglar. 

“Alberfff cannot eat cake,” said Airindë sadly. “I tried.”

“Finya. Fingolfin and Amarië bake and Finya makes better cakes than the rest of us. At least, I think so. We will teach you to cook so you will eventually decide for yourself.” Glorfindel regarded Airindë. “But Albert will not be able to help you decide which are best,” he added solemnly.

“Do you like Alberfff?” Airindë held the plush pig in front of Glorfindel’s face. The stuffed toy smelled vaguely like curry.

“Yes, I do, because I can see he is very important to you, and we are going to be friends. At least, I hope so, because I would like to have more friends and you seem very nice. Would that be okay?”

Airindë held Albert to her ear. “Alberfff accepfffss.”

Ninquitar stepped outside and waved to those on the lawn. “Come on in! Time for cake and presents for the princess!” he shouted.

Edlothiel touched Erestor’s arm gently. “May we speak a moment while the others go ahead? Just a moment.” Élarminë looked uncertain about this, but his wife made a shooing motion towards the house, so he began to lead his sister to the party.

“Please go, beloved,” Erestor said warmly to Maedhros. “I will be alright.” Turning to Edlothiel he blushed a little. “I hurt my back a little dancing at the Peacock,” he admitted. “They want to make sure I do not stumble.”

“May I walk with you, then?” she asked, offering her arm.

Erestor colored even more, his proud head dropping a little, but he nodded, gingerly accepting. With his free hand he impulsively held his veil, suddenly a little nervous. He politely waited on her to take the lead.

“Finya is very important to you, yes? Important to everyone, but there is something especially special for you. You protect her; she must protect you, or did at one time,” guessed Edlothiel.

“Yes. Or at least...I owe that I am here to the spirit in that body, whichever facet of she or he or a place in between is here at any given moment. I would do anything, give anything to help but I do not know that I am set apart in this more than Glorfindel or Maedhros. Except that…” he looked down. “I am not only an elf, and the nature of my existence and perhaps our relationship is more complicated because of that. It is not something I dwell upon.”

“You are a good man. I can tell. Not only because you believe in the same sanctity of marriage I do,” she said in acknowledgement of his veil. “You care about your family. My husband, he is the same. He cares very much. He has had a difficult time this year.” She paused with Erestor under a pear tree. “He says three children. We have four children. Astaren, some months ago, began to imitate me. Our elder son, he picked on Astaren a little. Bullied Astaren. We had family disagreements. My husband, he felt prayer was best. My brother-in-law, he wanted to bring someone from the mainland. This was debated. My sister-in-law, we wrote to her for guidance.

“In the meantime, there was this man, he was a friend. He had kept writing to our oldest child, who is a grown man, and one night there was an argument. Our son said he no longer belonged here, that it was one thing for Manyanar to ‘dress up for pretend’ but he refused to acknowledge Astaren’s spirit. We have always taught our children to have open hearts. We do not know where we failed. Our oldest told us we should know we were wrong, and he turned prayer against us. He said he hoped Eru would show us our mistakes and that we would come to our senses before it was too late for Astaren. It hurt very much. He said he was leaving if we did not repent. We were firm about our beliefs. He left. Almost a year, and we have not seen him. We think he must be on the mainland, with the man who wrote to him, because the letters stopped.” 

While she spoke, tears had been running down her cheeks, but she did not stop to wipe them away. “Two days ago, that was our son’s birthday. My husband, he could not stay here. He told me he was spending the day at the temple. It was not his day to be there. My brothers-in-law, they decided to try to have a good time where they work. All of us, we prayed that morning together. My sister-in-law had arrived a few days earlier to be here for her brother. They are very close. She has tried to find our son on the mainland, but, nothing. So we all prayed. And then, that night, everyone spoke, and there was too much connection. My husband takes it all as a sign. Our son, he must find his own path, but your Finya...my husband, my family, they will protect her, too. You understand?” Her accent was thick, so she spoke slowly. This meant that Ninquitar was peeking out at them again, and looked a bit concerned.

“Is everything alright?” he called out.

“We will be right in,” offered Edlothiel. Ninquitar nodded and went inside. “You understand?” she asked Erestor again.

“I do,” Erestor answered carefully. “But you must understand that Finya gives way to Findekáno, and that he is very different than she is. I think you do. I also think I understand too much about what happened to your oldest son, and I hope I am wrong. There will be more conversations later. Thank you, for what you have shared with me. I will pray for your family. We have much in common.”

“Thank you. And yes, my husband knows much about Findekáno, whom he used to call Fingon. Much that I do not know, but I know he would come home many times and kneel by the family altar and pray. He could not tell how to help more. I do not know details; my husband keeps secrets loyally, but there are things a wife knows. Over the last month, there were many times he came home and meditated deeply. Do not ask how I know, but I think they need each other. Your husband, and my husband. My husband, he desires to help. He is a helper. Your husband...he needs help. He does not know how to ask. My husband knows without being asked.” She finally dried her eyes. “I think we will have many times for you and I to speak in the future.”

Erestor closed his eyes. These were some of the things that perhaps should have been said during their visit yesterday but were not. The weight of obligation lay more heavily upon him, because he grasped the scope now of how much Élarminë had given his family with him unaware, and he was being asked to do something in return. Not so much for Élarminë personally, but if he could do something to lift this man’s burdens...what had become apparent is that later, when all was managed, he might be asking Asfaloth to take him to the temple alone, so that he could pray for wisdom and guidance. This was revealing itself to have a great deal of depth and he concurred; it was indeed a sign of something to heed. “Yes,” he smiled at the lady. “I believe you are right.” He laughed. “Ninquitar is still watching us.”

A pair of eyes from under the curtain, was focused on the pair.

“So he is.” Edlothiel waved and the curtain dropped into place. “Thank you, Erestor. Please...welcome to my home.” She walked with him up to the door and brought him in.

There were indeed decorations, all peacock colors, and a cake in the shape of a proud peacock. Mingling with the two families were several of the peacocks and hens from the club, as expected. At the center of the room, spending a few minutes speaking individually to each person, was...well, if Erestor had to guess, he would guess it was Finya. She was much as she was when they arrived, but from somewhere a brilliant gauzy shift of blue, aqua, violet, and gold had been draped over her shoulders, and there was a feathered, sparkly tiara on her head. 

From across the room, she spotted him and excused herself from the person she was speaking to. She headed straight for Erestor as Edlothiel moved off to help with something Albert allegedly needed. Finya took Erestor’s hands in her own and smiled at him. “Look at all this. Did you know about this?” Her voice was very soft.

“I...I…” Erestor stopped, mouth open, drinking in the sight of the beautiful dress and ornaments and how this was not costume but what belonged. He swallowed hard. “You are so beautiful like this,” he whispered. “I did not know, I swear to you.”

“I do not know how they put this together so quickly. The cake...the banner...the gifts...this is so overwhelming. Ninquitar said I should open the gifts later, blow out the candles on the cake, and then while everyone is distracted with cake, leave with him and Manyanar and  Astaren...Astaren wants to go with us. I...I think I might have been slightly adopted by Astaren or something...in an older sibling sort of way. I am a little...not frightened by all of this, but, nervous maybe? Ninquitar said I should go out like this…” She looked down at the flowing garment. “What...what do you think?”

“I think you are loved and cherished by this family more than you can understand, and I think Ninquitar gives good advice. You can trust them. What you are wearing makes me want to cover you in kisses, find a huge blanket and read to you in front of a cozy fire while we snuggle and feed each other sweets and then have some more kisses while I tell you all the things I adore about you. It will all have to rhyme, of course. I expect it will not have that effect on anyone else, but if it does I trust you will have enough chaperones,” Erestor winked. “I love seeing you like this.”

Finya leaned closer and whispered to Erestor, “Part of me wishes that if I closed my eyes, everything else would vanish, and I would open them and find you, and the fire, and a blanket, and we would just snuggle together for as long as we wanted.” She kissed his cheek. “I think I will follow Ninquitar’s advice, then. Thank you. I look forward to some snuggle time with you tonight when we get home, provided we are not too tired for that.”

“I need to rest more,” Erestor reminded her. “Snuggling would be good for my back, maybe you could hold me. I probably should hold off on all the kisses but I would really enjoy a quiet snuggle. I love you, Finya. I want you to have fun with your fellow peafowl.”

“I look forward to snuggling with you later.” She dropped her voice even lower, a silky smooth voice reminiscent of Findekáno, and said, “Perhaps we could try some dream snuggles later, if you think you are up for such a challenge.”

“Oh, wife,” Erestor whispered, blushing, and lifting one of the hands to his veil to chastely kiss the back of the fingers. “Leave your poor spouse in a place of modest thoughts, at least long enough to survive your celebration. Do not unravel me here, darling. You do not know your allure.” The chocolate eyes gazed up into the golden ones, vulnerable and pleading. And hoping, hoping, that Finya could see the truth of her beauty reflected back at her. With a squeeze of the hand, Erestor sidestepped, offering his arm gallantly. “May I escort you to the cake, my Lady?”

“You spoil me, my Lord,” she answered back. In a more serious tone as they began to walk, she asked, “How is your back? I wanted to go out and check on you when you did not enter with the others, but Ninquitar went for me.”

“Holding up so far,” Erestor smiled. “I am still laughing about the baked potato. It really helped, it is almost like it burned the bad place into submission. There is something kinky enough about that that I do and do not want to ask Gildor more all at the same time but leaned toward the latter for the sake of decorum,” he sighed. “It feels like as long as I do not move wrong, stumble or spend too much time on my feet today, and rest some more when we go home, it should get better. I did not know that muscle existed before yesterday, and I was really happy being ignorant. I am probably whining about something you have suffered from many times, please pardon me. You are...more than I am, that way.”

“You need to stretch,” she advised as they approached the very large cake that all of the children were staying close to, lest they miss it being cut. “Maedhros, too. Watch animals. They always stretch, extend all of the muscles, rotate joints, and go slow. They do not spring up unless there is danger. Stretch slowly, and you will be ready for anything next time. I can show you some exercises specifically if you like.” Finya took a seat at the table and motioned that Erestor could join her if he liked. “Do any of you know what flavor the cake is?” Finya asked the children.

“Blue!” burst out Airindë.

“The frosting is blue. The cake is chocolate,” Astaren said.

Erestor sighed. This was no time to explain that this happened to him bending over to scratch his knee; he would let it be and seated himself as requested, deciding to study the cake. It was very even and well-iced; now that he had attempted such a thing there was so much more appreciation for the effort involved. Cake would never be cake, ever again.

“Alright, lovelies!” called out Ninquitar. “The queen of the hour is seated on her throne--time for a song! Forrrrrr she’s a jolly good Finya, for she’s a jolly good Finya…”

The others who knew the tune joined in, with Finya blushing and half hiding her face against Erestor’s shoulder, but she was smiling and laughing a little, so he took it as a sign he need not tell them to stop and leave her alone. The song ended in applause as Finya blew out the two candles--one for each day since her naming ceremony. A large stack of plates appeared, as well as a blunt knife with which to cut the cake, and that was given to Finya to extract the first piece for herself. While trying to decide if it was best to cut into a tail feather or a foot, Eärenya was suddenly at Erestor’s other side, and placed a small cake on the table before him. “I was told you cannot taste many things, but that licorice is a flavor you can discern. My father had a recipe for a cake that was made in Middle-earth, and I thought you might like this better,” she told him.

“You...made me a cake?” he asked carefully, uncertain he had heard this right and not wishing to make a mistake.

Eärenya nodded. “Yes. Is that alright? Oh, I should have checked to see if you eat eggs. This cake has egg in it--the big one does not, on account of--”

“I do not eat eggs. How did…” Finya thought for a moment. “I must have mentioned it at the temple at some point.”

“I do eat eggs, and this is so very kind of you. I am not so good with food, would you please cut a slice for me? I would like to try it very much,” he smiled, genuinely curious.

Eärenya invited herself to take a seat beside Erestor and stole away two plates from the pile. As she cut the cake she said, “My brothers told me you are quite a polymath, and that your interests are diverse. It is good to know that someone with an open mind and varied knowledge will be taking charge of the faith-based studies at the school.”

“I detect a story,” Erestor smiled. “And yes, those words describe me.”

“Hmm.” She smiled and set a slice before Erestor and took one for herself. “The previous dean courted me briefly.” She tried a bite of the cake and deemed it more than acceptable for another bite. “Very briefly.”

“Given my preferences, I feel fairly secure that I will not be repeating that occurrence, and while I do not wish to comment on a situation with which I am unfamiliar, I would consider it unethical to be involved in that manner with a student regardless of whether or not I instructed that individual. To me it is a matter of academic propriety; I have very long standing opinions on these matters having seen many things transpire in my lifetime.” He said this with a smile and gentle humor in his voice and expression. “You seem untroubled that the courtship was not a success.”

“I am fascinated by your answer,” she replied. “And now I would question--is it that you feel compelled to tell any lady you perceive to be unmarried of your disinterest, or is it that you perceive a lady who does a kind deed for a fellow as one in want of a husband, and therefore declare--before your mate,” she said in acknowledgment of Finya, “that you are not interested, not due to loyalty, but due to disinterest?”: She was continuing to eat her cake, and seemed not a bit upset over Erestor’s reply. In fact, her general demeanor seemed to be one of a scientist, observing and questioning. “I also picked up on your assumption that I was a student when this happened,” she added.

Erestor paused to reflect on the content of his answer. “This is more than I would usually say, knowing someone for such a short time, but your question is valid and I will answer honestly though it is hard for me to do so. The answer I gave is because I feel compelled to remind myself of my chosen path in life. You have no way to know that as a homosexual male, I was sent willingly to a clinic that practiced conversion therapy because at the time it was what I believed I needed in order to fix me. And that in that facility I was drugged and physically tortured with electrical shock, starvation, sensory deprivation and more drugs until my mind was broken into believing I was heterosexual and I was declared cured and released. I went through a very long time afterward a repressed homosexual, still having desires for my own gender but terrified of them because of what had been done to me. This led me to alcoholism and drug use, as my inability to reveal to anyone what had happened to me sent me into a life of lies and secrets in which I tried hard to court and marry a woman. I chased more women than I can name, all while having barely remembered liaisons with males under the influences of substances, earning a tarnished reputation for myself because nobody understood my behavior. 

“Eventually I broke through this enough to accept the love of my husband Glorfindel but still I hid my secrets and even after I married him I continued to flirt with women. I hurt and humiliated him over and over and I did not understand why I did these things. I was a twisted, lying, addicted person who had little to recommend themselves and it became worse before it became better. I took the veil only recently, in a last, desperate attempt to turn my life around after someone tried to kill me with poison and almost succeeded. Every day I want drugs, and have to remind myself of what I must focus on. Even you, because you are a comely young lady and even though I am a homosexual male there are still messages in my mind, whispering at me to behave toward you in a manner no decent wed man should even consider. 

“I apologize for assuming you were a student; that was a foolish conclusion that I jumped to because I feel anxious. Nervous. Your family seems too wonderful to be true. You have treated my husband with unimaginable kindness and I am afraid to say or do something inappropriate, at least somewhat. Maybe I just did by telling you so much, but it is the true answer to a very pointed group of questions.” His voice was very soft, and through much of this it felt like someone else was speaking. How he was able to say these things but not feel them surprised him, a little. It felt like he had acquired a certain distance from himself, though how that was possible he was not entirely sure. Whatever it was, his speech remained steady, and when he finished he found another surprise; the ability to look Eärenya in the eye without a sense of shame.

“You have led an intriguing life,” Eärenya said. “What do you think of the cake?” She was halfway done with her slice.

“I would have to stop talking and try it,” he smiled, picking up a fork finally and sampling it. Immediately his face transformed with joy. “This is licorice cake! And wonderful! Better than the candy, honestly...I...thank you so very much that you would do this for me!”

She nodded and licked the frosting from her fork tines. “He expected I would take the veil when we married,” said Eärenya. “There was no discussion--we were at the market and he just lifted a veil at one of the stalls and said he should buy some for me then so I could get used to them. I laughed at him. We fought later when we were alone; he said I had embarrassed him, and if I wanted to make it up to him, I should begin to wear the veil then to show him my loyalty and love. I laughed at him again. I told him if I ever choose to wear it, it will be my decision. No man will tell me what to do. Do you know why?”

“No,” Erestor answered, but very much aware that he was going to find out.

“Men think they are like Eru, hmm? Not all of them, but many of them. They make things...create things...but what are they doing, just taking what Eru made and making something else. Even if you say the Valar made things, that was still Eru’s thought. A man paints a tree. The tree was Eru’s idea. The man makes a flute from the stick of the tree. Still Eru’s tree. The man makes a song. Every note, Eru. But what can a man not do? He cannot create a child. Woman is superior. No man will tell me what to do,” she repeated from before. “Would you like more cake?”

“I would, please,” Erestor said, pushing his plate with the arm that would not be at risk of antagonizing his back. “I want to savor this, though I hope Eruglar does not see me. I do not wish to set a bad example but I will have more. This is too rare not to appreciate.” He waited for the slice to be safely on his plate before thanking her and commenting further. “I feel there is a problem with your conclusion. My grandfather has no gender; the use of the pronoun is the preference the other Ainur adapted to the language they brought to being as matching his attributes and not any actual gender. Neither male nor female is seen as superior to the other for though a woman can create a child, she cannot do so in the absence of a male. Only together can this be accomplished.”

“Ah! But you somewhat agree with me, then. Eru, I believe, must be a woman. Why else can She create? She is woman,” Eärenya said firmly. “And I am glad you enjoy the cake.”

Listening to everything as slices of cake were cut, Finya took the temporary pause in the stream of people to get cake to voice her thoughts. “I...do not think you are correct,” she said. “If Eru was She, and able to place thoughts in the minds of the Valar Her will, then it is simple to request to be called ‘Mother’ instead of ‘Father’, but ‘Father’ is what...Eru chose,” finished Finya, then feeling that she had just given ammunition to Eärenya.

“But is it not possible for a woman to be ‘Father’ and a man to be ‘Mother’? A man to be called ‘she’ and a woman to be ‘he’?” Eärenya arched a brow. “You have children, Finya?” Her mannerisms seemed to indicate she already had the answer.

“Yes,” Finya replied. 

“Do they call you father or mother?”

Finya chewed her lip. 

Eärenya realized something else, and reached past Erestor to pat Finya’s hand. “I am sorry. I did not realize they do not know.”

“I...I think I would want them to continue to call me father,” said Finya. “But, because, I am different--I cannot possibly be like Eru,” she argued.

“But if not, how did Eru come up with all of these things, if Eru is not all things?” asked Eärenya.

Finya was still stuck on another point. “How did you know I have children?”

“You have three,” she said. “One you are mostly certain you are the father, one you think maybe, one you are certain you are not.”

“How did you…” Finya shook her head. “No, I know this answer. Your brother--he is a prophet. You are twins; you share this gift.”

Eärenya cut another slice of cake for herself. “It is as Eru wills it.”

“I never said anything to your brother about eggs,” guessed Finya.

“You never needed to,” said Eärenya.

“Oh good,” Erestor said. “Then I do not have to explain my wonderful except not parentage to you. But..it is part of why I disagree with you as well, respectfully. I do not believe they need to think in gendered terms. Gender is a construct for us here below, who have bodies in which that concept has meaning. For the Ainur, especially those who never descended to Arda and really especially for Eru, the certainty of my heart is that it is irrelevant. I also acknowledge that my certainty might be incorrect, and I remain open to what guidance I may be shown in the future. But...I will be honest with you. I spent a lot of years trying to establish a lot of total c-r-a-p about what I once believed as to ‘female inferiority.’ I was wrong, I was foolish, I am ashamed, I have repented and prayed to be forgiven of such arrogance and conceit. But I feel that were I to try to make a case for male inferiority I would be making the same error. I do not believe we are meant to spend our spiritual energies on such as this but rather on the promotion of respect and honor toward all of Eru’s children.”

“It will be a pleasure to debate you in the future. I must meditate on your convictions in advance of that,” Eärenya said.

Ninquitar showed up to the table to retrieve more cake and caught the end of what his sister said. “Are you causing trouble again?” he teased.

“Not as much as you,” she quipped back.

Erestor felt strongly that this was a good time to demolish the rest of his cake slice.

“I learn from the best,” Ninquitar said, batting his eyelashes. He handed the plate of cake to the nearby peafowl who had requested it, and then stooped down by Finya. “This is a good time to escape. People mingling, cake being eaten, and there is a carriage in the back waiting for us.”

“Yes, I suppose this is the right opportunity.” Finya looked at Erestor. “Please, please be careful? Make sure Maedhros knows your limits today. You can always go out again when your back is better.” 

“He is fussing as bad as you are,” Erestor smiled. “I love you and I want you to go be you. With them. They will take care of you, Finya. I know they will.” Standing, Erestor raised up on his toes and embraced Finya with lots of back rubbing and arm movements and distracting kisses to her hands. “You are to report back on the fun you had, and your shoppers also need to be thinking what jewelry would be the best accent, because Maedhros is quite literally going to be chafing to make things for her so I hope for some flattering design ideas.” Smiling happily Erestor regarded all of them, at one with the world.

Ninquitar saluted, then offered his arm to Finya. She took it, and quite literally, was whisked away. As Erestor sat back down, Eärenya smiled at him while biting on the tines of her fork. “I saw what you did there,” she said slyly.

“I was really pretty clumsy sliding the extra money into her pocket, but I want to be sure she can buy what she likes,,” Erestor replied. “I used to be a good pickpocket too but needless to say that is another behavior I have long since placed behind me. Though in fairness, there was a very extended war going on of sorts,” he frowned. “Anyway. I am interested in the origin of this cake recipe, if you know more about it?”

“It came from a place called Stock in the Shire. Do you know this place? Father befriended the Hobbit fellow on the mainland, and he has co-written several cookbooks with him.”

“You...you cannot mean Samwise?” Erestor asked, eyebrows raised.

“Why, yes--you know him?” asked Eärenya as her twin came over to sneak a bite of her cake. He complimented her with a pat on her shoulder before crossing the room to refill someone’s wine.

“Yes. We met in Middle-Earth in the Third Age,” Erestor told her. “He became very famous because of his heroism there.”

“He is one of my father’s favorite heroes,” confirmed Eärenya. “We hosted him here once, and every night we fell asleep to his stories. My brother and I were very young then, and Ninquitar was obviously not yet born. Sometimes I visit him and we take walks and have great conversations. I appreciate men who are not interested in me romantically.” She gave Erestor a pointed look. “Especially those with a breadth of knowledge.”

Erestor flushed pink. For a moment he sat there studying her, then let his head drop, laughing softly. “Ohhhh, I was like you once. I still can be, I suppose, in a classroom or delivering a talk. Precise. Wielding words with a commanding presence and strength; a master of every weapon from the club of the blunt statement to the rapier of the well-turned phrase finished by a double entendre. But I have not done this since my...what do I call it? Since I almost died? Since Findekáno saved my life? It was one of the old Erestor’s most prominent attributes and while there is no morality in the style of my discourse as it pertains to this, I have changed. You hold up a mirror to me and paid me a compliment, for which I am grateful. Thank you, your words are kind. What I know, if it is of use or interest to you, I place it at your disposal, Eärenya. My only requirement is that should I become boring, you say something and not let me prattle on.”

“We shall have to be friends, you know,” she predicted. “I think your wit and wisdom only lie dormant; they have not been eroded. Ah, but your newest husband approaches,” she said, and just as it was true, Maedhros rounded the corner, spied Erestor, smiled warmly, and strolled in their direction. “I shall be at your disposal for conversation while I vacation here,” Eärenya told Erestor. “I will have one of the maids wrap the rest of the cake for you so that you may take it home later after your adventures.” She stood and gave a nod to Maedhros before she went to speak with someone else she knew.

“Certainly seemed like a deep conversation,” remarked Maedhros as he loomed, but not at all in a threatening way, over Erestor. “I came around earlier, but it sounded like the discourses Felagund used to have with anyone who would let him.”

“It was like pleasant drowning,” Erestor shrugged, holding out hands to be pulled up gently. “I was in over my head but it also felt good. To know that I am more free of the need to hide and be secretive than at any time before. To just admit to my past to a total stranger and not care…” 

Carefully, Maedhros brought him to his feet, still listening.

“Not care is not right,” Erestor realized. “I have come to understand that anyone who would reject me or despise me because of these things...why would I want to waste my time on them? Because before, I did. Want to waste my time, though I do not know why, altogether. Uhm...I really do not need to talk about this right now. Here you are, and I look forward to shopping. I have something I wish to buy, at the store that sells stationary and paper. Clearly you have a list yourself,” he smiled.

“I do,” said Maedhros carefully. “And speaking to some of the birds in this flock, I have the names of a few other places. However, I also came to realize that neither of us are quite in the position to do what I envisioned us doing. So...what if we find stationary, and we find a place that sells fancy candy, and find a place that gives foot rubs, and pamper ourselves a bit before we come back here and spend some extra time with our new friends? I would say just stay here, but they already set up a carriage for us so that you did not have to ride to our destination.”

“I would like that, if only because I wanted the time with you both,” Erestor said. “Call me selfish, but one thing Finya and Glorfindel and I managed to not experience was courtship. Dating. We have tried to do better? But...Findekáno has, uhm, it has not always gone well and I am not going to get into all that except to say that I want to make an effort to work on our relationships with these kinds of experiences and gestures. I think they are important, to take care of each other.”

“Smashing. Let me figure out where Gildor got himself to, and then we shall--ah, there he is.”

In a corner of the next room, at a low to the ground table, Gildor sat with the three children and Albert, all of them with their own tiny teacups and small plates of cake. From some unknown place, most likely one of the peahens strutting around, Gildor had procured a very large, very loud hat with a massive plume of white feathers. It was tilted just to the side on his head. He and the children seemed to be having a marvelous conversation. 

“Perhaps just a few minutes more before we collect him,” suggested Maedhros. “It seems he and Albert are having quite the debate.” He shook his head. “And he worries about being a father.”

“If you are not worrying you are doing something wrong,” Erestor cautioned. “I do not fault him for that part. Not everyone turns out like Elros and Elrond, though I wish they did.”

“True, but...so many times, I can feel his panic. There is worry, and there is  _ worry _ and Gildor has been WORRY. He just needs to breathe and remember that he has the love and patience and understanding needed, and he was raised by literally one of the best fathers ever,” said Maedhros.

“Oh...I am sorry. I did not know it was that bad; I am not yet privy to that level of awareness. Your point is taken,” Erestor conceded.

“I suppose we should be thankful he is taking it seriously,” said Maedhros. Gildor happened to look their way, and Maedhros beckoned his first husband. “Would you like to take that walk first, or shop for paper first?” 

“The paper,” Erestor frowned, holding on tighter to Maedhros’ arm. “Do you really have so little faith in him?” he asked very quietly.

“Eressë, goodness, no...I just...small talk. You know, and I mean this in the...very nicest way...spending time with groups like this family will be beneficial for all of us. I fear, that you and Glorfindel living with Valinor’s most notorious hermit for as long as you did means some of his...ah, I just figured it out,” he mumbled.

“Figured what out, darling?” asked Gildor. He passed the hat back to one of the hens walking by and put an arm around Maedhros’ waist.

“Fingon, no Fingon, stop using Fingon...the theatre. The living alone. The chasing people away. That attitude--he had been attributing that to ‘Fingon’. This is not just about casting aside a name. This is...the history attached to it. I think. I should still ask him,” Maedhros said quickly as Gildor looked about to say something. Gildor nodded.

Erestor’s mood darkened but he said nothing, revealed nothing. There had been many unpalatable emotions of late and this was one he felt determined to let wash over him. He had misunderstood something; it would not be the first time. A kind smile was given to GIldor while Maedhros sorted out his thoughts. And after, he watched the children play, trying unsuccessfully to recall what it was like to be so young.


	13. Chapter 13

It was decided that since Eruglar was having such a good time at the tea party, and since there would be no shopping trip for restraints and other bedroom items, that Glorfindel would go along while Eruglar stayed to play with his new friends. Talk of the tea party reminded Erestor of the tea house he sometimes went to with colleagues from the school, and after finding the stationary, wax, and ink he wanted, and the chocolates and candies that Maedhros wanted, the four traveled to a very quaint establishment where they were led to a private booth near the back with a window that looked out to the sea.

“This is so nice,” Glorfindel said, looking around Gildor. He and Erestor had insisted Maedhros and Gildor have the window seats, reasoning that their time on the island had been the most limited and that they therefore should enjoy the view. “I am glad we could do this.”

“Me too,” Erestor said, “because even if I had not married Maedhros and Fin had not begun courting Gildor again, there is something I wanted the four of us to be able to talk about and that is the care and support of...may I be awful and say Finyakáno, not out of disrespect but because I do not know how to refer to both of them together? Or should I say Finya, with the understanding that I mean both Finya and Findekáno? I am open to guidance for this. I feel that our ability to grow toward each other romantically and with stability in a familial setting is not in question. I had hoped to have a plan for things like what he tried to say about working at the library, worrying about feeling he should earn money, needing to explore himself, needing professional help of a Gildor-knows-what kind of nature. These sorts of matters.”

“He carried my weight, literally and financially, all this time,” Glorfindel practically talked over Erestor. “I know my painting does earn money but I could do more if I had to. I already committed to helping GiIdor with Eruglar, and he will need teaching; I believe I am more than qualified to function as his tutor in an academic capacity. I am doing better, at least I believe I am. Certainly I am willing to step up more.”

“I can do much more if I have a proper forge to work at, or a set of jeweler’s tools. What I can do I need to invest in, but the returns will be greater,” explained Maedhros.

“I think we all know what I can do,” Gildor said as he poured tea for all of them. “This island needed reliable mental healthcare long ago. Unlike Mae Mae, the only thing I need is my mind and an office, and I think there must be a spare room in the cottage for that.”

“Or five,” Erestor said drily. “I do not have your flair for decor but I do know how to clean and move furniture and I will gladly help set up. And Maedhros, I have some funds of my own saved. Some of them were spared yesterday when my treat of taking us to the Peacock turned out to cost nothing at all. They are at your disposal, for your tools and the materials for your forge. I know that Glorfindel has at least a little experience on the needs of smithcrafters from his efforts in Gondolin and both he and I know how to do simple work with stone and mortar. Obviously, lumber is not an issue. I believe with some effective design planning and some well-organized workdays in which our goals are clear and perhaps even some of our new friends might be willing to help us with the work, we could have a great deal ready to go before cold weather sets in. And Gildor, if I may make a suggestion, I think that you should look into securing an alternate location to practice during the months when there is ice and snow. The Cottage is distant, and it might be a hardship for some patients to see you there. Having office hours in two locations would assure your accessibility. You might even want to consider limited house calls for those with real need. Someone was willing to do that for us long ago and it was extremely helpful at the time.”

Glorfindel sighed. “You are so sexy when you are thinking, Ress.”

A chuckle came from the face that lit up merrily with the compliment. “Down, boy. Stay focused.” But he smiled, and winked his appreciation.

“House calls. House calls are good. That is what Uncle Eddi--” Gildor squirmed a little. “I...right, forgot to mention-”

“Spit it out,” Maedhros said coolly.

“I told Uncle Eddi, through my father, what we were up to, and...they should be at our house--I can say ‘our house’ now, right?--by now. I talked to Beleg, he and Túrin got in late last night, and Beleg said he would let them in. Hope that was fine?” He grinned uneasily. “I will do better next time,” he added as Maedhros sighed.

Erestor blinked. “Uhm, is it bad that I totally forgot about Beleg and Túrin?” he asked sheepishly. “Oh, dear.” Steepling his hands, he placed them over his mouth and nose.

“There has been a lot going on,” Glorfindel comforted. “You got married. You are entitled to forget about Beleg and Túrin.”

“From my perspective, yes. But Beleg is important to Fin...Findekáno...and is one more emotional factor to this entire discussion that entirely escaped my awareness and should not have. Beleg wanted him to participate in archery. Another thing I wholly support. I wholly support just about anything that is not Káno buried under papers and fucking stress and responsibilities. I have watched all that destroy him for months and years now and I honestly feel like especially after what I saw these last weeks, I am the one who cannot take it anymore. There, brutal honesty.” Erestor looked up at Maedhros, as if waiting for some kind of judgement on his words.

“Gildor, can you reach your father?”

“Right now?” he asked.

Maedhros nodded. “I do not know Beleg well, but we forgot about him in all of this. What Erestor said is correct--Beleg is very important to Findekáno. If he is willing, he should be at this intervention you set up.”

“On it.” Gildor looked away from the group, focusing on a faraway point. 

“Archery is going to be, um...well, most of the athletics, you have to declare, I guess for lack of a better word, male or female...well, that is Findekáno’s decision, but I assume what Beleg is asking would be the men’s team,” said Maedhros. He rubbed his face. “Ugh...listen to us. Planning parts of his or her future without him or her around. Can I just...should we use ‘them’? Is that rude?” He looked between Erestor and Glorfindel.

“I do not know. We have not asked and cannot assume what pronouns he wants,” Glorfindel said firmly. “I do not feel we are planning so much as creating an array of healthy options. He has acted as the head of household for the three of us at cost to himself and I agree with Erestor that whether he likes it or not, he needs to step down from that role for his own well-being. We are asking him to do this out of a desire to honor him and in love. If this is difficult, it is difficult because the one we love has chronically shut us out. Because of fear and terror, I know, but that has not made our experience of this any easier. And that is something I wish to acknowledge for all of us. Everyone here loves Finya, very much. Everyone here has also suffered emotionally, none more than Maedhros, on account of what Finya became as a result of trying to survive and all of the defenses that piled up and became impenetrable. It is appropriate to recognize that, and that we are here to support each other for this too, while understanding that ultimately none of this is laid at Finya’s feet. That beautiful spirit is the greatest victim of all, and I know we believe and have faith that in the end love can conquer.”

“Alright,” said Gildor, rubbing at his eyes. “Wow. Just...Erestor, have you ever tried to mindspeak with Beleg? Because...wow. It just echoes all over. Uncle Eddi and my father just suggested, here, you talk to him. So, that was not intimidating, since I barely know the guy...I suppose they know him even less. Ha ha, there are strangers in our house,” he said. “Oh, and Beleg said he would be delighted, and I was trying to carefully explain Finya, and he just started echo-talking all this stuff, like, wow. He just, he knows things. I feel like I was inside Findekáno’s head.” Gildor sipped his tea and added more to warm it up. “Just...so many things he knows. My head is full.”

“I...no, but I will manage. It does not surprise me that he knows things. They shared their own kind of love and because it was not sexual there was probably a safety to it that allowed Finya to be more open. While I do not blame myself or any of us for having a sex drive, it represented a difficulty. That is what happens when a youth is sexually abused; I am able to work out that much. I will be grateful for his help. Who am I talking to, Gildor? Edrahil or Beleg? I am ready.”

“Neither. Took care of it already,” said Gildor. “Beleg is more than willing to be part of whatever happens. He also offered to go retrieve some things she squirreled away. Apparently, there are a lot of things hidden in the house that we do not know about.”

Erestor massaged his forehead. “Alright. Thank you, Gildor. I feel like I was doing a lot of the talking, previous to the mention of Beleg. Surely others have input?”

“Yes,” Glorfindel smiled. “Yes, it is your house too, Gildor and Mae. We have gone beyond the place of ours and yours. At least, in my heart we have, though I have been accused of impracticalities at times. I do not believe that is true. It is just that I do not agonize over how to make ends meet, I have concern. I try to keep emotion out of it. In Gondolin fretting did not feed my house. Thinking, problem-solving, and working did. Somehow it came out right in the end. I think sometimes Káno forgets that he is not the only one who cared for others. I do not hold it against him.”

Gildor tapped on the edge of his teacup. “I would tell the two of you to sit down, except, you already are. When Beleg and Findekáno were living together, before they came with you to the island, Finya was around, at the theatre. When they got to the cottage, Findekáno tried to think of ways to bring it up, and--do not laugh--was intimidated by you, Erestor.”

“Káno was intimidated by--are you sure, GIldor?” asked Maedhros. “No offense, Erestor, but Findekáno is not intimidated by me, so--”

“Erestor punched me in the face once. You just always got to see the fluffy side,” said GIldor.

“I used to have a far less charming demeanor, Maedhros,” Erestor smiled. “Gildor is being very kind in his choice of words. Though to be fair, in that particular instance something that usually did not see the light of day broke through. I am sorry, though...I am not certain how that was going to have any other outcome. Anyway. It was a long time ago. But I am a little lost...what was Findekáno trying to bring up to...presumably me?”

“Finya,” said Gildor. “He wanted to tell both of you, because Beleg knew, and for Beleg, it was just how life was. Wake up some days, find Findekáno on the stage practicing. Other mornings, wake up and find Finya playing harp in a dressing room. Oh, and occasionally, Kitten snuggled up next to him, and sometimes would spend the day with Astaldo instead. I got the feeling there were others, but Beleg did not divulge all of those details. The point is, he had hoped Findekáno would gather the courage. If I understood right, there were a few times when Beleg thought Findekáno would do it, he, er, she got dressed, and then at the last minute, would get anxiety to the point of getting sick.” Gildor looked down. “She was very afraid.”

Glorfindel furrowed his brow. “You mean to say that there is more inside than only Finya?” he queried, eyes fixed on Gildor.

“I am not surprised by that. I knew about Kitten, we all basically do,” said Maedhros. “I did not realize Astaldo was some separate manifestation...When we were much, much younger, there was...something, some side or personality or what you will that I would refer to as ‘sexy bitch’, but for all I know, there was a name for that which I never knew. To clarify, that was absolutely not Finya.”

“Beleg seemed convinced of it,” said Gildor. “Exact words escape me, but it was something like ‘Fingon was hiding all of his selves for so long that if Finya has surfaced this strongly the others may follow’.”

“Fuck,” Glorfindel stated flatly. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK FUCK fuck fuck FUCK.” He stared at the ceiling. “Toss in some shits too. This is why he did not tell us about the royal succession. It is all part of this, all connected.” He folded his hands under his chin. “I raked him over a bed of coals for that. I had no fucking idea. Fuck. And yet how the fuck was I supposed to know...” he trailed off. “Alright, I can not un-fuck that up. There are more persons to meet in there. So what. How do we give him what he needs? How do we make him understand that we would have been like Beleg, had we known? Er, Beleg that are married to him, uhm...shit. Can someone else that knows what I am saying say it? And where is the tea,” he whined. “Is this not a tea house?”

Gildor, who had been hoarding the pot, refilled Glorfindel’s cup, though the pot was getting low. “I am sure they will be back with hotter water soon,” he assured him. “I think much of this needs to wait until we can talk to Káno, but you should stop beating yourself up. Beleg was adamant about something--he said to get Káno to talk about Faelion, because Beleg was gone before Faelion had his short-lived...Beleg called it an affair, with Findekáno. There is something there. Something that kept him silent--or, her silent, really.”

“What?” Erestor and Glorfindel blurted a perfect octave apart, if anyone had been paying attention. The latter stared at Gildor open mouthed. “I am beginning to wish they served something stronger than tea, though I should not say that out of regard for Maedhros. Am I going to need to be prepared to keep my temper really defused, kind of thing?”

“ _ Your _ temper?” Erestor asked. “Your wrist is hurt.”

“Your back is hurt,” huffed Glorfindel.

The pair narrowed their eyes at each other.

“Again, a reminder, everyone’s favorite asshole is on the other side of the sea,” said Gildor.

“There is a forest out back, and I am certain a book on boatbuilding in the library,” Glorfindel grumbled.

Erestor giggled. “I love you, Fin. Just knowing where you want to put your oar makes it all better somehow.”

Glorfindel stared at him. “Must keep conversation elevated. So hard. Everyone remember this later.” He sighed. “We have to get him to talk about the puckered ingress across the waters. Got it. Anything else?”

“We might need to wait until we can speak directly to Beleg again, but something that felt like a warning. If Fingon is--again, these are his words--unraveling, then it is only a matter of time before he lets Astaldo loose, and Astaldo is aggressive.” Gildor placed a hand on Maedhros’ arm. “Honey, from what I gleaned, I think the answer to ‘who brought down the theatre’ is really Astaldo.” Maedhros only responded with a nod.

“Would he even try to hurt someone submissive to him?” Glorfindel asked, unsure what he was hearing. “Or is he what happens when he gets told something he does not wish to hear?il

“I do not think there is a goal of hurting anyone,” said GIldor. “More it is that the personality is so strong and sometimes anger and authority can become a bit much.”

“It helps to understand, thank you. Like a translator,” Glorfindel said ruefully. “At least we now know who speaks Finyakáno.”

Gildor looked around and then leaned in towards the others. “It makes me wonder, is it Astaldo then when he tries to hurt himself? And when we first met Eruglar and he was so stoic--maybe Astaldo? Or has it just been Findekáno, trying to keep the rest of himself in check all this time? I also must admit, I know some things about this sort of thing, but my counseling is usually helping a couple figure out why they yell at each other, or helping someone who is grieving find ways to find calm. I am very glad for Uncle Eddi being around to assist.”

“There is much that I would need his own insight for, when he arrives at a place that he is capable of that kind of self-introspection,” Erestor answered. “Right now my guess is that he cannot manage that level of objectivity. Not comprehending that he has social anxiety when it is described to him or rather looking for avenues by which to see how it cannot apply to him when he makes the sum of difficulties Fin and I have pale by contrast is not a good sign. That is a lot of avoidance. I wrote the manual on avoidance so I feel I know it when I see it,” Erestor noted with humorous self-deprecation.

“Do you think we should tell him what we have planned?” asked Maedhros. He had been very quiet and was not even drinking his tea. “It is hard to tell how he will act to surprises, but I do not think of this as a particularly pleasant surprise. However, telling him, he might end up with extra anxiety on the way home.” 

“I am unclear on what we have planned even is,” Glorfindel told him. “I thought we were discussing a general, overarching, how can we help him. Suddenly I feel like we are transporting him home to an impromptu intervention. Is it really necessary to move that fast, assuming I am even understanding you correctly? How did we go from ambling to a footrace here?”

“Uncle Eddi is already at the house,” Gildor said guiltily. “Perhaps I rushed a bit too fast and misunderstood what was hoped to be accomplished.”

“No, there is no such thing as a wasted behavioral health visit,” Erestor waved his hand emphatically. “Gildor, this is us. Come on, think about it. I absolutely know how to make this about Fin and I but really we need to be making it about Finya, so do not worry. It is simple. And it is what we are sitting here talking about right now. The need for changing roles under a roof where most everyone’s role is changing. Five men. A new child. Two new marriages with a good chance of others to follow when the time is right. A person who is physically in bad health but resists wanting to engage with that reality and who oh by the way is revealing this really important aspect of their gender identity. Three of us mean to take on new forms of employment and do not want Finya to take on anything that involves drudgery. If there is not opportunity for conflict and ill feelings to erupt in that pot of stew, then I just graduated from the culinary academy,” he said acidly.

“I think we might just have to play it by ear and see how he is when we see him, er, her, again later,” Gildor said. “I suppose I could also reach out to Beleg again and see what he thinks.”

“Wait, wait. Mae, you know all of the person in question better than anyone here and you have said the least,” Glorfindel observed. “I really want to hear more from you first, please?”

“I think we need a plan, and then from there we can decide what we want to say or do. Because he will ask,” said Maedhros with confidence. “If we are not prepared, he may assume there is something being hidden. We do not necessarily need to tell him far in advance, but telling him before he enters the house might be beneficial. Too far in advance, and he might suddenly disappear--and it is one thing for him to hide in the house, and entirely another to have him hide on the island as we are well aware.”

“Well, someone could push me on the floor and ensure I need to be carried home on Asfaloth,” Erestor rolled his eyes.

Maedhros’ eyebrows shot up with an expression that easily translated to ‘unacceptable.’

“It was meant as humor,” Erestor informed him.

One brow lowered. And only one. “Gildor, have you been telling him Third Age stories about me?” Erestor wondered.

Glorfindel snickered and giggled. “I love you Ress, but there were so many times I stood in Imladris, wondering if your bullshit would ever come home to roost and while this was not what I envisioned, I am still going to enjoy myself.”

“Deserved,” Erestor sighed. “Back to Findekáno. So we need to tell him. I vote for two thirds of the way home. Less distance for someone to have to chase him down on Asfaloth.”

“My professional opinion is wait until we are home, and tell him before we go inside. Then there is no deception, but he does not have time to formulate answers to questions yet asked,” said Gildor. “I am sorry to be negative, but he has avoided and distracted and generally I fear that he will do so, given enough time. I do not want to sound accusational, but there are times he pretends to be dumb when we all know he is not. Maybe I can see that because the relationship each of you has with him is a little different than my own.”

Glorfindel regarded him. “Alright.”

“Same,” echoed Erestor. “That sounds based on good reasoning.”

“Next question,” voiced Maedhros. “What do we want to accomplish? Or, what do we hope to accomplish? Just get him to talk, or are there specifics. You mentioned occupational situations, Eressë.”

“Those, definitely. I would like it if he could talk to us about what he needs. What she needs. When do we know to switch pronouns, for example. I am so anxious to do everything right for him. Her. Himher. Them. I will not claim I have a fraction of the same anxieties but there...okay I am just going to be honest. After Mae and I bonded there was a desire for more sexual contact but we did not realize Fingon was in the room. We wanted to include him once that was discovered, because the encounter was supposed to have been Fingon and Maedhros instead of what actually happened. Dammit, Findekáno. Findekáno is his name,” Erestor said firmly to himself. “This is going to take a bit to break this habit. Regardless, I have never been so filled with gut wrenching anxiety during sex as I was up there. I have a lot I need to learn. But the anxiety was about taking missteps with Findekáno because I feel so in the dark. Not knowing what he needs because everything is a guessing game. Or is this just something Erestor needs to learn to deal with, especially since he dished it out for thousands of years?” He slid his hand over to take Glorfindel’s. “Fin, I am so sorry. Maybe add this to the list. I mean, I will manage, but the parallels are really unpleasant.”

As Glorfindel kissed Erestor’s hand, Gildor shook his head. “What you did and what Findekáno does are two different things. You would say no and mean no; he says no and means maybe, and says yes and means no. You denied yourself things you sometimes wanted, but you never allowed something you regretted in the moment.”

“I just want him to be helped and I intend to leverage the fact that he promised himself to us for all it is worth,” Erestor said simply. “I would expect no less from him. He has already given me that.”

“Same,” Glorfindel concurred. “We are not collectibles. I have never made a more serious vow in my life.”

“That is a very valid point,” Gildor said. “Findekáno is a very spiritual person, and while it might seem like a manipulative move, emphasizing that bonding with him means a joining, and this is not just about him, but about all of you, all of us, might be a good technique.”

“I usually do not like to be manipulative, nor do I like to decide for another adult what is for their own good. But in this case I am not the one deciding. To my mind I am still continuing Elrond’s medical instructions. If Edrahil has recommendations about the kinds of anxiety he experiences, well...then I would have to consider further but as I told him once already, I am not going to watch him destroy himself. It is not an option.” Erestor steepled his hands. “I really do not know what else I can add. Fin?”

The blond considered for some moments. “I want to show him respect. I want to do better for him than I did when I blew up at him over the succession issue...but at the same time he has to realize others have emotions too and people react to what they believe reality is. I will do my very best to stay in control of myself and not become so agitated again, or excuse myself. Something. None of this was his doing and for all he is this really screwed up mess, he has a greatness in some areas to which I cannot hold a candle. Imagine what could be there if this could ever be healed. I pray it can be. Can be better.”

The server came to their table and bowed. “Would you like a new pot of tea?” she asked them.

Gildor looked down at the dregs in his cup. “If I drink much more, I might spoil my supper,” he said.

“I think we are about done here,” said Maedhros. The server nodded and went to the next occupied table. “Was there anywhere else anyone wanted to go, or should we see if we can beat Finya back to the house?”

“I cannot wait to see what she bought,” said Glorfindel excitedly. “I wonder if there will be some new shops she can tell us about!” 

Upon returning to the house of their new friends, a discovery was made. They walked in to scents familiar to Maedhros, who went in the direction of the kitchen with suspicion. There, Findekáno was giving several members of the household staff and a few of the adults in the family what appeared to be cooking lessons on Middle-earth cuisine of the First Age. Upon spotting the entry of Maedhros, and the others to follow, he excused himself and sheepishly approached, shaking his head as he came to Maedhros. “I really tried,” he said, voice cracking at the end. “I, uhm...I broke down in the carriage. We never even made it to the market. I...it was just too much.” 

The others noticed that the shift and feathers he had worn earlier were not in sight, and he had even removed the color from his nails. Maedhros enfolded him in an embrace. “You have to do this on your own time. No one is going to force you.”

“I am not sure Finya will ever be ready to go into public places. The Peacock is different. May I...Gildor, may I speak with you for a moment outside?” asked Findekáno.

Gildor nodded, and gave a shrug unseen by Findekáno to the others before following back out the door. They walked silently past the gate and down a hill to a bridge and a private fishing pier that had not been observed by Gildor when they first arrived. “You have said that it might not be proper for you to...treat me, for lack of a better phrase, because of the relationships in the house, but I need help from someone, and it is taking a lot for me to ask, and I feel comfortable asking you, and if that means I need to sleep in a different room so that we keep things professional, maybe I need to do that until I can...I hesitate to say ‘get better’, because I am not sure that can happen.”

An embrace akin to the one Maedhros had given Findekáno earlier was received from Gildor. “It is very difficult to ask for help, and to acknowledge needing help, and you are brave to do so. No one is going to suggest you sleep on your own--in fact, I would highly suggest against it. I am honored to know that you trust me. I also stand by my assessment that it would not be a good idea for me to offer the kind of therapy you need because no matter what we try to do, the fact remains that we are married to the same man.”

Findekáno hung his head. Gildor lifted his chin back up with two fingers.

“My uncle, the person I call uncle and feel even closer to than my actual uncles, is still on the island. He has far more experience than I do; he was my mentor for many years, and still is as far as I am concerned. He is also a healer of the body as well as the mind. He can put together Elrond’s assessments and my notes and may see things neither of us could on our own. Would you consider meeting with him today?” asked Gildor.

“Today? Now?” Findekáno seemed skittish as he moved to the other side of the pier and looked down into the water where a beaver was swimming to a new destination. “I...I...I do not know if I am ready for that,” he said.

“I am not going to push you, but I think you are ready,” said Gildor gently, choosing not to pursue. “You already know you need assistance, and you have asked for it. How different is it from the years you ruled in Middle-earth and had your councilors to guide you?”

“It is different because it is me we are talking about, not land to gain or Morgoth to conquer,” sighed Findekáno.

“Is it really so different? Your mind is the battlefield, and your...personas, they are like your army, and if they are all so independently minded, how will you ever win the war?” Gildor hoped his analogy did not make it worse.

“I think I get what you mean,” Findekáno finally said after a worrisome silence. “Will Felagund be with him?”

“Absolutely.”

Findekáno narrowed his eyes. “How can you be sure?”

“Would you be mad if they were already at the cottage?”

Findekáno narrowed his eyes further.

“Just remember--when I worked for you, you told me you appreciated that I could sometimes anticipate your needs before you knew you had them. You still appreciate that, right?” Gildor grinned.

Findekáno sighed, but he smiled a little. “As long as Felagund is there, and I am not forced to recount every traumatic childhood memory, I am willing to speak with Edrahil.”

“Beleg is there as well.”

“Ah. Well, yes, he and Túrin are both there. So...they finished their hunt?” asked Findekáno.

“Yes, for now, but when I say ‘there’, I mean, he is willing to be part of--”

“An intervention you planned on my behalf in advance of me knowing whether or not I would agree to partake?” 

“--eh, something like that. We really had the best intentions in mind,” said Gildor.

Findekáno leaned on the wooden railing of the pier. “I suppose he has told Edrahil everything.”

“I do not know what he has or has not told Uncle Eddi, but...he said some things to me.”

“I see.” Findekáno looked into the water for the beaver, but could not locate it now. “And I suspect you shared whatever he said with the others.”

“I told them a few things,” Gildor said carefully. “I did not tell them everything.”

The ground was studied with interest. When the golden eyes looked up, they were both curious and fearful. “He must have said something that makes you carefully draw out your words.”

“He did, but I think it might have been a mistake and he just had a number of things that tumbled out, and I happen to be rather strong at mind speak, and I just happened to hear them,” remarked Gildor.

“I see,” Findekáno said again. “But something is bothering you now.”

“Mmmm...you know, Findekáno, you could certainly consider choosing my profession for yourself with success,” Gildor said.

“Now you are avoiding.”

“You may not even need training,” Gildor joked. He sighed. “I am not sure how to ask this in a...nice way.”

Findekáno crossed his arms over his chest. “Then just ask.”

Gildor glanced back at the house. It was up the hill, too far to call up for reinforcements, and pausing to reach out with his mind would be noticeable. On the other hand, he realized that Findekáno had positioned himself to be able to dodge at any moment, and he was far more athletic than Gildor. There was no way to stop him from leaving if he became upset, which the path of avoidance most certainly was doing. Gildor cleared his throat. “I caught something, and maybe I misunderstood, but there was something I would perhaps label as a ‘concern’ in Beleg’s mind.”

“Do you want me to say it for you? Because, from your actions, I believe I know what it is,” said Findekáno.

Letting Findekáno talk meant that there was a slight chance that something else could be revealed even if the topic was not confirmed. Gildor motioned for Findekáno to go ahead.

“He told you about the rape fantasies.” Findekáno’s words tumbled out almost angrily.

“I was trying to think of another way to address that, but, yes, the...desires you have to be forcibly dominated. I keep thinking about what happened to you when you were in gymnastics--”

“I had some of these thoughts before that happened. I think I started with some of it happening because I thought the outcome would be different than it was, and then it was not, but I still said nothing because I was scared, and because I thought maybe it might change…” Findekáno sighed. “I know. I am pretty fucked up.”

“Honey, no, you...the mind is strange. If they were all the same, it would be dull and--”

“Better to have an exciting pervert in the mix somewhere?” Findekáno cut in.

Gildor took a deep breath. “There are a lot of experiences you have had, and before you label yourself for them in negative ways, I think talking to Uncle Eddi and getting another perspective will help.”

“And then he can label me as a pervert.”

Gildor rubbed his face. “Káno, I love you and I want you and Finya and Astaldo and Kitten and anyone else who you are to get to a place where you no longer feel self-destructive, self-loathing, and sad. Part of why I became a healer is because emotions are like auras to me, and when I get too close to a person, I can feel them stronger than most do. When I walk past you, your sadness radiates. Even when you laugh, even when you are angered--you are always sad. That is…” Gildor took a moment to wipe his eyes. “This is why I cannot treat you. I am too close to you already. You are...a part of my life, a part of me. Sorry.” He wiped his eyes again. “What you exhibit, to me, my professional opinion...is a very deep depression. You have masked it so well, but those who are close to you can see it. There is so much about you that is wonderful, and I want to help you to see that, and I want to help you see that these demons that haunt your mind...they might not all be able to be chased away, but when you reveal them, others can help you fight them. Your personality is such that you think you have to do everything by yourself. This is not a baby dragon, these are balrogs, and you know what happens when you try to fight those alone. You do not have to be alone, because you are not alone, but when you walk away or run off and hide, you make yourself alone because you leave us behind. We want to help you, and I think you want us to help you, but you feel you are either not worth the help or should be able to rise up above it. Well, Káno, there is no Eagle here to take you up above it all. So please, let us fight this battle with you.”

Findekáno picked at the chips of paint on the railing. “I was showing them how to make stuffed mushrooms. Do you remember all of the different types of mushrooms we discovered in Middle-earth?”

“Normally, I would let you deviate from the conversation out of respect for your station, but we are going to resolve this issue. If you just want to keep going the way you have, no one will stop you, but I do not think that is what you want,” said Gildor firmly.

“No,” answered Findekáno after a moment of hesitation. “No, I know this is a destructive path. It is a literally physically destructive path.”

“Alright, then, swear to me that you will see this through.”

Findekáno looked shocked. “An oath? I thought we decided those were a terrible idea.”

“Sometimes, yes. Are not marriage vows an oath of sorts?” pressed Gildor. “Swear to me that you will take up this quest to save yourself, and I will swear to you to do all in my power to aid you.”

Findekáno laughed a little. “So, you would be my Squire.”

“If that title suits, then, yes. You are the Knight, for you ultimately must be the one to win this battle, and I will Squire for you.” Gildor held out his arm to Findekáno.

It almost appeared that Findekáno was going to refuse, but he clasped Gildor’s arm. “I swear it,” he said in a very serious tone.

“As do I.” Gildor, still clasping Findekáno’s arm, even knelt to one knee and bowed his head, saying, “I am in your faithful service,” before standing.

“So…” Findekáno let go of Gildor’s arm. “Thank you. And...do you want to try the mushrooms we have been making?”

“I was going to try them whether or not you offered,” admitted Gildor as he took Findekáno’s arm and led them back up to the house.

Glorfindel stood in the kitchen, tending said mushrooms. “I did not wish anything to burn,” he explained. “Mostly I slowed down the cooking enough so that you could decide where to finish them.” He spoke to Findekáno without looking at him, knowing what had gone wrong and not wishing to cause him discomfort.

A short distance away, Erestor and Maedhros were trying something playful but helpful; the tall redhead had Erestor’s wrists firmly, suspending him so that he barely had his toes on the ground. “Relax into it. Concentrate. First your elbows and shoulders. Your ribs and spine. Hips and pelvis. Your neck. Keep relaxing, and I will lower you to the balls of your feet.” Protectively, Maedhros kept him balanced until he regained his center of balance. “Better?”

“Uhmmm…” Erestor tested his body. “The soreness does not feel different in that one place but the stretching felt good. I feel lighter. Thank you. Maybe this is what our dance should look like. More things like this incorporated so Erestor can manage bending over to pick up debris off the floor.”

“The trials of age,” Maedhros teased.

“Where did the staff and the rest of the family go?” worried Findekáno, seeing that his pupils were gone.

“There was a race to see who could go wash up first in the back so that they could set the table outside. I think I heard a screech about Albert winning,” said Glorfindel.

Findekáno put his arms around Glorfindel and gave him a hug and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

“I could not see such lovely mushrooms succumb,” he smiled kindly, leaning into the affection happily. “ I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Findekáno continued to hold onto Glorfindel, watching his technique. “So, were you all going to tell me at dinner, or wait until I walked into the house to find Edrahil there?” He kissed Glorfindel’s neck to show he was not upset.

“I cannot even play the blond card,” Glorfindel smiled, moving the food off of the heat for the moment and remaining very close to his husband, finding an arm to touch. “I will guess Gildor, since that is who you vanished with. We agreed to tell you after we arrived home but before you entered the house. That seemed like it would give us the best chance while still honoring you with some time to gather your thoughts. I plead that you believe this was meant from a place of great love for you.”

Findekáno kissed the top of Glorfindel’s head. “I beat you all to it. I asked Gildor for help before I knew what you were all up to.” He nuzzled his cheek against Glorfindel’s. “He really goes above and beyond, though, once he gets involved. Made me swear an oath and everything.”

Maedhros flashed a look of concern at Gildor.

“What?” Gildor asked around the second mushroom he had stolen from the tray.

“Was not expecting that,” Glorfindel smiled, doing his damnedest to dissemble his shock and appear encouraging. “I am proud of you for taking such a step.”  _ And more than a little scared that you have placed this level of obligation on yourself,  _ he kept private to his own mind. But he said it was Gildor’s idea, surely Gildor knew what he was doing? “I am duly outmaneuvered.” A dazzling smile of happiness looked up at him.

Maedhros, on the other hand, did not seem pleased with the situation. “Gildor? A word?” He gave Erestor a peck on the cheek, and then half-dragged Gildor out of the room.

“So...tell me about the mushrooms,” suggested Erestor loudly, though his gaze was on the doorway Maedhros and Gildor had disappeared through. “What are they stuffed with?”

“The white ones have spinach and cheese and the brown ones are a rice and quinoa mix with spices and walnuts.” Findekáno looked to the doorway as well. “Someone should let Maedhros know there are no jewels or ships and certainly no Morgoth involved in this oath.”

“Love...come with me,” Erestor asked, taking Findekáno’s hand. “Please, so we can talk to Maedhros?”

But Maedhros stomped back in. He shook a finger at Findekáno, but said nothing. Gildor came in after Maedhros and pinched Maedhros’ butt. Maedhros snorted and turned to glare, but Gildor’s smile made him roll his eyes and shake his head. “I do not like it, but I will hold my tongue to see where this leads. I will intervene if I see a problem,” he warned.

“An intervention to an intervention--what a trend-setting idea,” remarked Gildor.

“If you recall, Mae, we were about to become as insistent as necessary about this,” Glorfindel said evenly. “Regardless of the cost to ourselves and if it meant nights of slogging through mud having to seek him out. So I deeply honor that he has made this courageous choice; we are all a little taken by surprise. It will be alright. Though, we know you are here to protect all of us and I feel humbled to know that. Thank you.”

Silent Erestor smiled enigmatically, and listened.

“Oaths are serious,” Maedhros said darkly.

“Indeed they are, agreed Gildor. “Indeed they are.”

“Perhaps we can further discuss at home,” suggested Findekáno. “I do not want the food to get cold, and our very gracious hosts are patiently waiting on us outside,” he reminded the others. “Besides, I am looking forward to showing you all of the lovely things I was given, but everything is packed up already in every nook and cranny of every saddlebag available.”

“I think that would be a very good idea,” Erestor said authoritatively. “Tell us how we may help bring food outside.” 

Once Findekáno was commandeering Glorfindel and Gildor and giveing them directions on what to carry outside, Erestor took the moment to kiss the back of Maedhros’ hand.  _ I am not being dismissive of your views. But the promise he made to Gildor is no less or more serious than the promise I made to you. Extremely serious, and yet also a guiding light of obligation for when there is temptation to stray. You may not have had your marriage tested, to do for a spouse what you would not be able to achieve on your own will alone but the binding promise holds you in place. I know you care deeply but to my thought this is not the same. He did not swear any manner of sanction for failure. The oath was to persist in the attempt. While some aspects of this do worry me, I can live with this. Even you took respite from your oath at times.  _

_ I think I would have reacted differently if he had said ‘vow’ or ‘promise’, but oaths...I will try to dismiss it for now.  _ Maedhros and the others followed Findekáno outside, where other Middle-earth delights were set out on the tables, ready to be devoured by both families. Asfaloth waved to them, sitting before a giant bowl of sugarcubes. The children, completely mesmerized by the horse, listened to him telling them stories while he depleted the sugar supply.

“And some things never change,” commented Maedhros as Asfaloth popped a handful of sugarcubes into his mouth.


	14. Chapter 14

“Whoa! Can I play in here?”

They were the first words out of Eruglar’s mouth when they arrived home to find that the great room had been transformed. In one corner of the room there were several people sitting, and Felagund arose and waved to the group. “This is not really a playroom,” said Felagund. In the place where he stood were many chairs set in a circle. In another corner of the room were tables and a variety of art supplies, including two easels. There was a spot in the middle where a pile of pillows and cushions were in the middle of couches and chairs also arranged in a circle. The stage had a table, too, with some musical instruments, and two chests of costumes brought up from the basement. There was also an area with snacks, and a few other little nooks set up to allow for individual or two-person seating with places to write. A pile of paper and some implements for writing were near the door. 

“Eruglar, I know you have had a busy day already, but how would you like to go on a walking scavenger hunt?” asked Amarië.

Eruglar looked suspicious. “How do you know my name?”

Amarië laughed. “We did not have much time to talk to you at the wedding, but we are Gildor’s parents. That makes us your grandparents.”

“Oh, boy!” Eruglar ran over. “I get grandparents, too?”

“And a Great Uncle Eddi,” Felagund added as he clasped Edrahil’s shoulder.

“Yes! Grandparents! You know, grandparents give the best gifts,” the child informed them.

“Eruglar!” scolded Gildor.

“But I know it is true! The other boy said that about his Grandpa, which is Fingon-I-mean-Findekáno--wait, are you a Grandma, now, too?” Eruglar asked.

“I...do not think so,” Findekáno answered carefully as he bit at his lip.

Felagund scooped up the boy to distract him. “Would you like to go on that adventure walk? Just you and your Grams and I? And you can tell us about all of the things you like, just in case there should ever be a reason to bring you a present,” Felagund said with a wink.

“Yes, please!” responded Eruglar. 

It was only after the trio left and Túrin gave Beleg’s hand a squeeze before retreating to his guest room that Findekáno voiced his concern to Gildor. “You told me Felagund would be here. I thought he was going to stay here.”

“Sorry,” Gildor apologized. “That caught me off-guard, too.”

“I feel like…” Glorfindel appeared to be increasing in thinly veiled anxiety while Erestor stood back, out of Findekáno’s view, unsure what he was seeing. “This...he had the courage to ask for help, and something specific was agreed to. Is it not incredibly unfair to do this to him?” Glorfindel asked Gildor, his voice obviously shaky but clear. “I think I should go after your father and offer to change places with him so that it is what was anticipated. It is important to me that his needs be honored.”

Erestor frowned, studying his mate. He genuinely was not sure if this was real or a careful construct for Káno’s benefit, meant to provoke concession from Káno or intervention from Gildor or Edrahil.

“I am very sorry; I was not aware that this was part of an agreement. I was asked if I would be available to facilitate a safe sharing space and I can contact Felagund. I am sure he would not mind coming back. They cannot be that far,” said Edrahil.

“Fin?” It was Beleg’s voice, and he beckoned to Findekáno. “I thought you might like to sit by me. I plan to stay as long as you need me to,” he further offered.

Findekáno closed his eyes and scratched his head. “Eres, if Felagund is not here, I need you on the other side.”

“Anything I may do, beloved,” Erestor answered at once, walking to him and weaving and arm around his waist in support. “But he will come.”

Findekáno kept his eyes closed and nodded. “Let me see how well I can do without him. If I need him, maybe we can take a break for him to get back.”

“They are staying close to the cottage and will only be a few minutes away,” Edrahil said. “I can be in contact immediately if needed. I do wish everyone to be comfortable. I did not know how long it would be from the time you ate until you arrived, so there are refreshments for those who would like to partake; I thought we might start over here, but before we begin, I want to draw your attention to the rest of the room. You see that there are other places. If at any time anyone feels they would rather go somewhere else in the room, you are welcome to do so. If you wish to continue the conversation there, or stop the conversation, either is valid. If you need to leave, everyone is permitted; come back when you are able to. Are there questions?”

“How does this work? You are very generous to meet with us but we know you live on the mainland. I do not practice your vocation but it seems safe to say that our household is more than a one-visit circumstance. What do we do after today, or is there anything at all for us?” Erestor asked respectfully.

“I hope to give you some tools to use during my time here. Gildor is family, so I anticipate visits in the future, whether I come here or all of you travel to the mainland. If there was someone here that I could recommend I would; alas, the competency rates are low here,” said Edrahil.

“Thank you,” Erestor answered. There were volumes bordered by his reply. Gildor would be able to answer questions but his ability to assist would be tenuous; he of all people understood why. It was the clarity of the outsider; had he not known it well in his former ministry? There was such a thing as being too close to a problem.

“Anyone else? And please, if you have questions as we go along, do stop me. There is no time limit, I have ample options on how this can go, and we just see where it leads.” Edrahil looked around at the others.

“Gildor, did you tell him?” Glorfindel asked. “About the...agreement...you made with Findekáno concerning this? For the record I am very supportive of this, and so is Erestor. I think it should be mentioned at the outset though, because I am very proud of my husband’s courage for undertaking a difficult challenge.”

“We have a...pact,” Gildor settled on. The choice of words seemed to put Maedhros at a little more ease. “I have promised I shall offer my full support to him, and he has vowed to see this through. He asked me this afternoon for assistance.” Findekáno nodded in agreement to Gildor’s words.

Edrahil nodded. “I would caution slightly on such an immense task. Perhaps we can break it all down by the end of the week,” he said. “Small steps to a larger goal. Now, before we begin, would anyone like a sedative? Nothing very heavy, just a light dose--I find with some, it helps to relax and feel at ease when talking about these difficult topics.”

“Yes,” Glorfindel said without hesitation, though he looked down at the floor when he spoke. “Me, please.”

“Excuse me for a moment,” Erestor said to Findekáno. “I promise I will return to you in under a minute.” He moved across the floor to where Glorfindel stood and laid a hand on his shoulder. The blond nodded. To someone who knew him very well, a slight flaring of his nostrils revealed the extra measure of agitation.  _ Fin? _

_ I will be alright. This is bringing painful recollections close to the surface and I do not want this to be about me. You know...reminders? I can cry easily. I could use help feeling less provoked by experiences I think I have already worked through. I learned at Elrond’s that it is not wrong to use these medicines under the supervision of a healer, for a specific reason. That and I want Káno to feel like he is not the only one asking if he wants this too. Thank you, Ress. He needs you more right now. _

After a pat on the shoulder and a kiss to the cheek, Erestor kept his word and returned to Findekáno’s side.

Edrahil had a device that was a cup where herbs were held, a tube attached, and a piece that looked to fit over mouth and nose at the end. He measured a portion of herbs from a satchel into the bottom of the cup. “Is anyone else interested?”

“None for me,” said Gildor. “Trying to kick the habit,” he added as a bit of a misplaced joke. Maedhros shook his head as well, and Beleg said, “No, thank you.” Beside him, Findekáno was staring at the floor, one leg bouncing.

“Just Glorfindel, then?” Edrahil let the words linger as he looked sidelong at Findekáno.

Findekáno rubbed his hands together, and at what seemed the last minute, lifted an arm up slightly. “I probably should at least try,” he mumbled. 

Edrahil walked to the fireplace and used a stick to light the herbs, then came back to Findekáno. He blew at the small flame and let the embers remain. A smoke could be seen entering the upper portion of the device, but was kept from exiting by a valve. “If this works for you, I would suggest investing in one of these and keeping it on hand for times of great stress. It has a calming effect without leading to loss of clarity.” Edrahil showed Findekáno how to hold it up to his face. “On three, I am going to hold the chamber open. You breathe in deeply, and do not exhale. Count to ten, twelve if you can, and then exhale.”

Findekáno nodded, and kept a hand on the device even though it hardly seemed necessary with Edrahil holding it. When the smoke rose up and he began to breathe it in, he started to cough. Edrahil closed the chamber. “Just breathe slowly. We will try again.”

“Maybe I just cannot.”

“Maybe,” Edrahil quickly agreed. “Here. Lean back in your chair. My, you are tense. Close your eyes and let your body be limp.” He used his free hand to coax Findekáno to move his arms, crossed over his chest, to his sides. “I will count for you this time. I am going to have you take a few practice breaths. Ready?”

Edrahil counted through to twelve, told Findekáno to rest, and repeated. The third time, he made it seem as if it would be another practice, but opened the chamber. It was at about eight that Findekáno opened his eyes and realized what was really happening, but he fought to make it through, and only coughed a little at the end. “Very good. You did very well. Try one more?” By the time the device was moved away, it was evident that it was already having an effect from the way Findekáno leaned against Beleg.

Edrahil took the device to Glorfindel. He whispered to him, “I gave him more of a medium level. I have rarely seen someone so in fear. His muscles were clenched so tightly. It should be good for an hour, possibly two, no more than that. All you need to do when you are ready is push this aside with your thumb and the smoke will rise up into the breathing chamber.” Edrahil held the device out to Glorfindel.

At once he made a far too respectable showing for himself, smiled and shrugged, nudging it back to Edrahil while easily holding his breath. What could he say? Hobbits.

“If this works for him,” whispered Edrahil to Glorfindel while he waited to see if he had a desire for any additional treatment, “there is a similar option that he could use before bed and when he wakes. I do not know if insomnia is an issue or restlessness, but it can aid with those as well.”

‘Both’ Glorfindel mouthed the words to Edrahil unvoiced with a crooked forefinger subtly gesturing toward his spouse, since the healer’s body blocked Findekáno’s view of him.

Erestor rubbed Káno’s back, making a pattern. Slipping into his thought was not difficult; what worried him so was the sheer magnitude of strain inside. No one should feel like this at the prospect of being helped; there was something here, a depth that eclipsed what even he had manifested and that was a not exactly a small achievement of the dubious sort. For him, his secrets had been his walls, his defenses. He had been so afraid that when his secrets were known, his world would crumble to ruin. That had not been true but distorted beliefs rarely were. 

Káno had few secrets left, if any. So what was the problem? Or was something else so much worse buried that he believed was unacceptable or would trigger rejection? So far it had been one thing after another that Erestor had thought to be frankly pedestrian, not to diminish his partner’s concerns.. Hopefully Káno had never secretly kept another elf as a pet wearing a collar, or committed grievous crimes against the weak and powerless. If that were the case...that would be a great deal to reconcile but even then, it would not be an automatic rejection. Even Morgoth received a hearing. No, it was not possible. Findekáno did not have that kind of darkness inside him. Some darkness? Yes, for they all did and he did not believe he was an exception to that. But he did not accept that Káno had ever nurtured his own darkness; only that he had sinned greatly by allowing it to rule him once. Shaking his head a little Erestor pulled his thought from this distasteful and hopefully utterly irrelevant line of mental perambulation. 

_ Maedhros,  _ Erestor looked up.  _ I know Finrod will return and I would like very much to sit next to you once he does. If I may? To hold your hand.  _ Glorfindel might not be the only one fighting off unpleasant recollections, but he felt he could ill-afford to turn to drugs for any reason.

Without saying a word verbally or otherwise, Maedhros picked up one of the chairs and carried it behind Findekáno. He set the chair down and sat upon it, then reached forward and to the side to reach Erestor while placing a hand on Findekáno’s shoulder.

“How are you doing?” Beleg asked of Findekáno, who was leaning against his shoulder.

Findekáno rubbed at his face with one hand. “Can we go to a nicer place to sit?”

“How about over there,” suggested Beleg as he helped Findekáno to stand. They went to the area with more comfortable furniture. Beleg chose a couch after kicking off his red shoes and expected Findekáno to join him. Instead, Findekáno flopped down onto the pillow pile at the center.

“It appears someone is relaxed,” Maedhros told Erestor with a little squeeze to his hand.

Edrahil walked to the middle of the room and peered down at Findekáno, who was on his stomach. “I take it you either have a low tolerance or do not partake in recreational use of medicinal substances.”

“Few recent times,” mumbled Findekáno. “The colors smell nice.”

“Oh, dear,” said Edrahil. “Would you like a blanket?” he asked as Findekáno started to burrow into the pillows. Findekáno nodded, and Edrahil retrieved a soft and fluffy blanket. It was draped over Findekáno, who pulled it up and wrapped himself up with it.

“This is not a bad thing,” Erestor murmured to Edrahil very quietly, drawing Maedhros after him in order to speak. “Our early conversation may not gain much response from him, but this will help him join in when he chooses to. As you saw, his anxiety and tension are extreme. This is a coping mechanism.” The pair then chose nearby chairs, motioning to Beleg to stay close to the cocooned mound of his friend.

Glorfindel seemed more relaxed, waiting for Gildor to settle with an interest in being near him once he did. The cat, often aloof, padded over, jumped into the middle area, and decided to curl up on Findekáno’s blanketed butt.

“I see we are all present now,” said Edrahil. He patted the head of the cat before he took a seat. “I want to start with a basic assessment of mood. On a scale of one to twelve, with one being ‘this is the worst’ and twelve being better than the best, where would you assess your mood to be right now?” Unlike Gildor, Edrahil did not have a notebook. He had a glass of water and a cookie from his refreshment table, and took a bite while he awaited responses from whomever would answer.

Erestor’s brows knitted together while a detailed deconstruction of the word ‘moods, worst, and best’ began, but Glorfindel waved a hand idly. “This is really hard? But ‘seven or eight’ was the first thing to come into my mind and I was told once those immediate thoughts are often the best answers.”

Frowning even more, Erestor, leaned back hard in the seat, unmindful that his veil had begun to slip. A patterned drumming of his interlaced fingers had begun on Maedhros’ hand to which he was wholly oblivious.

Maedhros went next. “When we came in, I was around five. As soon as this one collapsed on the pillows,” he said, pointing at Findekáno with his foot, “it went up to about an eight. Is that terrible to admit?”

“Normal, actually. Married Elves are highly affected by the mood and emotions of their partner or partners. That is why this is not something I can just do with him,” said Edrahil with a nod at Findekáno. “This is something that affects everyone, more so than other interpersonal relationships due to the close nature of what all of you experience.”

“About...eleven?” guessed Beleg. “Twelve seems hard to come by. Keep in mind--my beloved murdered me in our previous life together. Any day that does not occur is at least a ten.”

Erestor realized Edrahil’s eyes were on him. “I am, uhm, still trying to figure this out? Maybe if I had been able to prepare this ahead of time…” he trailed off. “What about five and a half? Right in the middle? Does that work?”

“No one is getting judged or graded. It just helps me to know how everyone is doing. Nephew?” queried Edrahil.

“I am a--” Gildor clapped twice and pointed with both hands to the ceiling. “Perfect ten.”

Beleg laughed. “What are eleven and twelve if ten is perfect?” he asked.

“Eleven and twelve occur in situations typical of someone who has suffered a major traumatic event, and instead of allowing that event to continue to affect their world, they use it as a way to justify that small things or even big things which might bring a normal person to a three or four or five is not being allowed. Sometimes it is temporary, and sometimes it is permanent. Do you ever have days under ten?” asked Gildor.

“Uh...not often, but, sure, I had a ram get pissed and butted me in the groin, knocked me over, and kept running so I split my lip open and ended up with a lot of bruises. That was not a ten. Probably a seven or eight, but Túrin took care of me, and we laughed about it later.”

“I am so confused,” Erestor muttered under his breath, not meaning to be overheard and trying to refocus on the one statement that mattered; that Edrahil had said the responses were inconsequential. “Whatever.” They were having fun over there, and while that was not really his personal idea of a good time, if it led to enough sex, well, maybe that was what he meant. If a near groin injury led to a lot of getting taken care of by Maedhros and Fin, and pampering from Finya or  _ focus Erestor, focus. Deep breaths. You are fine. Everything here is fine. Even the fine is fine. Right. Fine.  _ He failed to notice Maedhros’ arched eyebrow during this personal monologue, for his eyes were riveted on Beleg.

_ For what it is worth, I lied to him.  _ It was Maedhros’ voice, in Erestor’s head.  _ I suck at these things. I cannot say I am still at a five because Findekáno will internalize it as being his fault. I just want this done and I want a drink so bad right now. _

Immediately Erestor’s hand held tighter.  _ You are doing what you must, being honest where you may. I think you are doing very well.You are protecting him. _

“Glorfindel? Findekáno? Do either of you have an opinion on the topic?” asked Edrahil.

“Topic? The last topic was you assessing everyone’s moods and I am not qualified to have an opinion on that, unless I have misunderstood?” Glorfindel replied calmly.

“Fair enough. Findekáno?”

“I smell sienna.”

“Good. Well, it seems Beleg and Gildor are the furthest to one end of the spectrum, so I will ask questions, everyone else is welcome to add whatever they like, but Gildor and Beleg are both expected to participate.”

“Dammit, I knew there was a catch,” said Gildor.

“Question buddies,” said Beleg, and the two bumped fists together and laughed.

“I want you to tell me what you could teach me,” said Edrahil.

Gildor grinned. “How much time do you have? And...this is all confidential, right? None of this gets back to my parents?”

Edrahil smiled. “I would suggest choosing things of a non...your father is going to be returning,” Edrahil reminded Gildor.

“Right...so, not my top twenty hobbies,” Gildor mused.

“This is just anything?” asked Beleg.

Edrahil nodded.

“I guess...if you do not already know how, I can teach you archery?” Beleg looked around to see if what he supplied was what was being sought.

“Very good. Gildor? Do you still need a few minutes?” Edrahil teased.

“I could teach you how to track animals,” Gildor said confidently.

Raising his brown eyes, Erestor held Maedhros’ hand a little tighter. “I could tell you why it is not worth it to hide yourself from those closest to you, if that is something you do. I could deconstruct for you the cage that a person builds around themselves with the conviction that secrets are safer than lies and evasions. I can even teach you why the pain of truth is lesser than the pain of lies because there is no corner of this land into which I have not journeyed. I can teach other things too, but so can a lot of people. So my answer is really, what do I feel I can teach you that no one else can.”

Edrahil stroked his chin. “That is very profound,” he said. 

“Did I do it wrong?” worried Beleg.

“No, there is no right or wrong. This is just a chance to get to better understand each other.” Edrahil’s gaze lingered on Erestor, and then he looked to Gildor and Beleg again. “Does anyone have anything else to share?”

“I can teach you to skin a rabbit with one hand,” offered Beleg.

“That would have been helpful,” grumbled Maedhros.

Erestor snorted hard, before realizing who the butt of the joke was and clapping his free hand over his mouth and nose in wide-eyed horror. Slowly he looked up at Maedhros with an expression worthy of Dog Dog the last time he did a naughty on Findekáno’s clean laundry. Glorfindel was shaking with suppressed laughter. Gildor did not bother to try.

Maedhros smirked, and then leaned over and kissed Erestor’s cheek. None too covertly, he pulled Erestor up onto his lap and cuddled him. “It was meant to be funny,” he assured Erestor.

The corners of Erestor’s mouth curled up, and he looked up bashfully, obviously a little embarrassed at the confusion. His long lashes swept down and he hugged his husband tightly, eyes briefly closing. “I think this is a seven or eight right now,” he said knowing Edrahil would hear. “When I may have this.”

He was kissed on the top of his head, where some of his dark hair was exposed. “May I?” Maedhros whispered, fingers against the fabric of the veil, indicating by a small movement that he wished to remove it.

Hesitating for a moment, Erestor realized he had never precisely worked out his own limits for this...but after a few seconds’ consideration nodded.  _ Yes, you may. I love you, Maedhros. _

The veil was reverently removed and folded and set on the arm of the couch.  _ Definitely up to a seven or eight now.  _ Maedhros finger combed through Erestor’s hair, keeping him on his lap. 

“Maitimo can teach people how to braid hair.” On the floor, it was noticed now that Findekáno had turned his head and had been watching Maedhros and Erestor. “He can braid hair and braid rope. If we have some ribbon, he can do pretty things with your hair.”

“Is there anything you can teach us to do, Findekáno?” asked Edrahil.

Findekáno continued to watch Maedhros and Erestor. “Nope,” he finally said.

“You could teach us how to race horses,” suggested Erestor. “You are the only person who ever beat me.”

Findekáno watched Erestor, and Maedhros playing with his hair. He crawled over from his place on the floor, blanket traveling with him. The cat hopped off and joined Beleg on the other couch. Findekáno rose up in front of Erestor, reached out, and booped his nose. “Nope.” Flopping back into the pillows and pulling the blanket closer, only his eyes and tufts of hair peeking out, he said with his voice muffled. “I always win.”

“Is that why you cannot teach us?” asked Edrahil.

“Uh huh. Cannot have anyone better than me.”

“And why is that?” Edrahil asked.

Findekáno pulled the blanket over his head.

Edrahil looked around. “Is there anything else anyone thinks they could teach us?”

"Well, I paint," Glorfindel noted. "And while I cannot express the concepts so elegantly as Ress, I have had a number of life experiences. I think I too have some thoughts to share on the origin of happiness and unhappiness in a life. Oh and I like to design structures and mechanisms too," he included as an afterthought.

“Very good,” said Edrahil. “Now, staying on the topic of learning, what is something each of you would like to learn? It could be something like a skill, or it could be information, or it could be something else. Gildor or Beleg, would either of you like to go first?”

“There have been discussions about needlecraft or yarnwork, but we have not reached the point of figuring all of that out. I am actually hoping to see if my father can give some lessons before he leaves the island,” said Gildor.

“Well, our new friends are providing me with a new opportunity,” Glorfindel remarked. “I enjoy painting but painting and cosmetics are related and they have a lot of skill at combining color and using techniques and I found myself very interested in the art of creating Finya and Cesanyë. I should like to know more about how to do this. I would also like to learn more about someone very special to me,” he smiled happily.

The blanket was pulled down; golden eyes peered out at Glorfindel. “I suppose I could teach someone how to put on cosmetics. There is nothing competitive about that.”

A sudden idea for a series of portraits with elves of both genders wearing not only cosmetics, but facial art flashed through Glorfindel’s mind and his brows raised over excitedly gleaming eyes at the assorted potential. A few trial concepts, to see how they were received...oh yes, definitely. A dazzling smile aimed toward the blanket, mostly founded on anticipation.

Erestor grinned from behind the locks of his hair with which his husband still was still moving to and fro. He knew the expression on Glorfindel’s face quite well, and equally knew it was always beneficial for the recipient. It meant the sun was about to shine luxuriously at least for a time.

“Do you like wearing them, or just putting them on others?” asked Edrahil.

“Never much put them on others. Sometimes. Mostly me.”

“And who are you?” asked Edrahil.

“Now or the rest of the time?”

Edrahil motioned a hand towards Findekáno. “Whatever you would like to tell us.”

_ This healer is really good.  _ It was Beleg, and now those other than Gildor were able to experience the booming, echoing presence of Beleg, for he had seemed to have easily gathered together Glorfindel, Erestor, Gildor, and Maedhros in a very private and shielded discussion which made Erestor wonder if Beleg could in fact be a more powerful telepath. While connections and discussions between lovers and close family members could be accomplished with practice and skill, and some, such as Erestor and Gildor, were able to reach beyond these boundaries to speak with others, it was draining and sometimes disorienting--and yet, Beleg, as he sat rubbing the cat’s belly and listening to the conversation between Edrahil and Findekáno, did not seem to be experiencing any strain at all.

_ Hello, Beleg,  _ Erestor answered.  _ I agree if only because I am learning a great deal and this is not really even for me. You have been absent from us for some time. Can we answer any questions for you while this goes on? For obviously much has changed. Something profound and immediate happened the day after the wedding to both of us and Maedhros and I have bonded, is the first thing that should be said. Glorfindel and Gildor have agreed to explore the relationship they laid aside long ago; and then there are the events concerning Finya/Findekáno. Ask away. _

_ Congratulations to you all. I have no questions for you. _ Beleg smiled about at them and turned attention back to Findekáno, who was speaking with Edrahil.

“I cannot say I have ever really felt I knew who I was, because I am so many things, but never at the same time,” said Findekáno.

“So you compartmentalize yourself,” said Edrahil. “Many people, one mind, one body.”

Slowly, Findekáno nodded, and pulled the blanket up again, but still peeked out.

“Why do you choose to stay down there?” asked Edrahil.

“Because I am heavy,” replied Findekáno.

Slowly, with fluid grace, Glorfindel eased himself to the floor on all fours but did not appear awkward doing so; some unusual placement of his knees and legs allowed him to move more naturally. Pausing before Findekáno he smiled into the golden eyes, rumbled a pleased sound, and playfully nuzzled his way in far enough to place a light kiss between the lovely eyes.  _ You may be heavy but you are also beryl,  _ Glorfindel told him earnestly.  _ And it is very good.  _ With no further explanation, he returned to his place.

Findekáno purred.

“Can you tell me what you mean by heavy?” asked Edrahil.

Findekáno considered. He held up three fingers.

“Is that how you feel?” asked Edrahil.

Findekáno nodded.

“Where are you usually?” asked Edrahil.

One finger disappeared.

Maedhros sucked in breath as tears pricked his eyes.  _ I need to go to him.  _ He kissed Erestor’s cheek, but it was as if he was tensely waiting for permission.

_ Always do what you must, Maedhros. You have my full trust. Go. Maybe even translate for me at some point,  _ Erestor said with an attempt at humor while he slid off his lap and nudged his bottom up.

Maedhros lowered himself to the floor. Even while sitting on the cushions, he could still remain eye-level with some of those sitting on the couches and chairs. “Kitten?” he tried experimentally when he was settled.

Findekáno peeked at him.

Maedhros patted his lap. Findekáno crawled over and curled up, much like a cat, on Maedhros’ lap, his long legs draped off.

Erestor stared at Gildor, because it kept him from staring at Findekáno and Maedhros. This was the sort of thing that had him at a total loss. A glance darted over to Beleg revealed a calm self-assurance that seemed to find this usual enough. For him, he guessed it bothered him because he wanted some sort of control in the form of knowing what to do, how to help – and he was bereft. That was when Gildor traveled over to the empty spot beside Erestor and sat down very close, going so far as to take hold of Erestor’s hand and give it a squeeze. 

_ If it helps, there are moments I have when I know I will always come second. Maybe that makes it worse. Either way, I probably understand. I cannot compete with their history.  _ Gildor gave Erestor a hug.

Erestor slid into the affection with confusion a little akin to guilt though he knew that was not a feeling Maedhros would wish him to have.  _ I do not expect to be prioritized. In a way I am humbled, for I would yield to you at any time out of respect for your great generosity. I just wish I understood Findekáno. That entire exchange...I can comprehend the speech of animals but not Káno. Being his mate does me no good here and I do not mean that I am jealous. Maybe it is a little of how you feel when you want to do something for Eruglar but feel lost. Except the difference is you will grow into your role as a father and this...I do not have the same faith that I will ever understand or have a real place in this. I know, I should be more positive. I am trying. I am telling myself I have been through much upheaval of my own these last few days. I do not want to make this about me. The comfort helps. Thank you. _

_ This is about all of us. And those two, they just have such a long history. Like you and Glorfindel and I.  _ Gildor managed to make eye contact with Glorfindel and beckoned him over by crooking his finger. Beleg smiled at them upon noticing all of this, but remained on the sofa with the cat. “So, Edrahil,” said Beleg, perhaps by means of distraction, “what number are you today?”

“I tend to be about a five most days,” answered Edrahil. “I used to be able to say I was a nine or ten most of the time, but some rather traumatic events happened, and I actually experienced what zero feels like, and by the grace of Eru and the ability of two very lovely and loving people, I am still here to tell you that.”

“Wait, what?” This caught Gildor’s attention as Glorfindel was joining him and Erestor. “Is this...sorry, I know this is unprofessional, but is this how you and my parents...look, I am not an idiot,” Gildor said softly. “Your ‘it just happened’ that you told Mae Mae and I seemed really...rehearsed. And, I know enough not to force you to talk about it, but this is the first time it has been brought up, and you have always been a special person to me, and I love you like an uncle, you are my uncle, you will always be my uncle...I just…” Gildor quieted down when he realized how loud he was talking. “It just seemed like something else happened, with the way you were all acting. Something had to have happened to your wife. I cannot say I am...sad exactly, you make my parents very happy, having you around more makes me happy...sorry, I am forgetting myself and why we are here.”

Edrahil, sitting now so that he was further on the edge of his seat with one hand encircling his other wrist waited until Gildor finished speaking. While looking straight at Gildor, he calmly answered, “I tried to kill myself, per the suggestion of my wife, and my parents, when my wife wished to pursue an alternate lover. Your parents found me and intervened. That is what ‘zero’ is.”

Gildor stared back, unable to speak.

Glorfindel stood, uncertain he was doing the right thing but feeling he must. He approached Edrahil and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I reached the place of determining to take my own life at the nearest opportunity. You have my love and my unwavering support for every aspect of you and your life with Finrod and Amarië. Whatever it even is. There is nothing you can say to me that I am going to think unusual; look at us. Look at...me. I thank Eru that He saw fit to save both of us.” With a squeeze to his shoulder, he returned to his seat. 

Erestor had waited for Glorfindel to finish before doing the same. “I tried the first time when I was in Valinor, in a similar situation. Galadriel left me, and soon after the trees lost their light, and I felt there was nothing left in the world for me. Later, not that long ago actually, I did not have a fully developed intention. I was just killing myself with drugs and then if I never woke up at one point, well, that would be that. In like manner with Fin, I would not for a moment give you anything but my compassion and love and stand behind you as an ally. You are family to me now by marriage and even were we connected by less, I would help you for any reason. I have always considered you a friend, from those days of our youth at the Sarati School together. I am so sorry for what you suffered. It was wrong.”

“I have a curious question,” spoke up Beleg. “Of those here, who has attempted, either directly or indirectly, suicide?”

Every hand, some immediate and some tentative, rose from the group, with the exception of Beleg and Gildor.

Maedhros lowered his arm. “I was a coward about it. I tried to get someone else to do it for me.” He stroked Findekáno’s head. “I am sorry. I should never have done that to you.”

Findekáno purred and nuzzled at him, as if to say things would be alright from now on.

“I do not think any of us did anything from a place of sound thinking, Mae,” Glorfindel said. “I was in physical, emotional and spiritual agony, and what happened to me was a piss in a bucket compared to what you had been forced to endure. You talk like that was not part of the equation. I wish I had done better. I know you do too. But part of this is to forgive ourselves for choices made in the lowest points of our lives. It is okay that you have these feelings but if you keep on having them you will end up being me. A fucking mess who could not lift out of his own guilt and sadness for too long. It was what it was. I just want to help you see a better road if I can. And...shit this is Edrahil’s job. Please forgive me...Fin will shut up now.” He smiled brightly and mimed stitching his lips closed.

“Please, continue if there is more you would like to say,” said Edrahil. When no one offered anything further, he said, “I think we need a break. Please take a few minutes, there are some refreshments, use the water closet if you need. There is a place to paint and draw if that suits you. We will come back together again in a little while.”

Glorfindel, deciding he had said enough, moved himself to the paint place. Edrahil had set it up with simple colors, which, who needed more? Swiftly he made the borders of his paper black, and had that darkness transition to a midnight blue nearer the center. Then a radiant rainbow burst from within it, in a circular shape and not the usual linear kind seen outdoors. That was laid down rapidly and was drying while he mixed much smaller amounts of other colors. In among the rainbow bands he now made delicate trails of flowers. All flowers, any flowers, but he had a neat little trick with the brush that would allow him to produce a tiny celandine in something like four seconds so profusions of these were simple to generate. The blossoms were kept diminutive, so they did not overwhelm the rainbow as to color or size; they were part of it. While he worked, his mind wandered the totality of his life with Erestor, and the new love that had opened new paths so recently, and he wondered why Eru wanted it like this, or what it might mean. Or if it meant anything at all.

It was Beleg who joined him. He had a glass of juice and a plate with jerky and cookies. “That looks really nice,” he complimented. He took a sheet of paper himself, but did not opt to use brushes like Glofindel was. One hand was for eating, and the other for paint. His fingers smeared the paint around, and with it, he created simple but recognizable animals. A fox. A bear. A wolf. Paw prints across the bottom. “I am going to give this to Túrin,” he said as he worked on an owl in a tree.

“Túrin is a fortunate man. Thank you for the compliment. I am glad you are here again,” Glorfindel told Beleg, rubbing at his eyes with one hand he thought did not have any paint-related compounds on it. “I was...I failed to get to know you like I should have the last time we lived together here. If you would allow me to remedy that mistake along with offering friendship to your husband, I would like that. I apologize to you for the troubles I brought here on account of Faelion, though I now struggle to recall who and where and when. That can all be explained later. You will be able to help my husband Findekáno, Finya, whoever may be in there for I love all of them; and for that I am very grateful.”

Beleg smiled kindly, and then looked down to add a moon and stars to his picture.  _ I would welcome that, should it come to pass, but surely you must know, I am here to close a chapter that has lingered. Fingon and I never really had a proper ‘farewell’. There are times when, in life, we must recognize that two or more people were part of something great...amazing...but that when that time passes, all parties must move on. But I would welcome knowing you better, at a time in the future. Right now, you must spend that energy and time on those who live under this roof, and that is a group I am no longer part of. _

Blinking, Glorfindel lowered his eyes.  _ Pardon me, for misunderstanding. I thought with the archery and your offer to stay...I thought you meant to be here for some time. I never really understood what was between you because...well, he never told me. I can be very naive. Gullible. I know it. Erestor and certainly Maedhros understand more than I do. It is just...how it is. Either way, thank you for being nice.  _ He rotated his brush in his fingers, feeling awkward, not knowing what else to say or do.

_ I did intend to stay...Edrahil does not think it is healthy right now. It hurt a little to hear that; I thought I was doing the right thing coming here again. But he made some good points. Maybe he is reflecting too much on his own relationship of the past, but...I am not going to dwell on it. I want what is best for Fingon.  _ Beleg placed his painting aside and dipped his fingers into one of the water bowls on the table that had been meant for brushes.  _ Are there questions you have for me?  _ He looked across the table at Glorfindel with a tilt of his head.

_ It is not really like...questions. I know you were not physically intimate because of his fears about intimacy, if that is not oversimplifying it. I believe you provided him with affection? If that is the case, whatever form that took, I am grateful to you because it meant he received some kind of comfort. Touch. I think also he told you a great deal, and that meant he trusted you enough to do the telling. That hurts, because though I know he trusts me in some ways? Obviously not all ways and while I have done all I could to love him I know I made mistakes...but I made the mistakes because my path was strewn with glass. Ignorance. I am not complaining. He was my last chance, he and Erestor. I would not be here without them and I owe them everything. The truth is I am jealous of you; I wish I understood him like you did; I wish I had the same trust. I shall have to keep trying, and earn it. There have been difficulties for all of us. I do not pretend to fully understand Edrahil but for what it is worth I wish you were staying. I hope the archery thing...I hope this does not mean you must vanish altogether. _

_ You must understand, though, it was not you. It was not Erestor. It was Faelion. Have you seen the letters? _

_ What letters? I do not understand what you mean.  _ Glorfindel stared at Beleg, an ill feeling building in the pit of his stomach.

Beleg dried off his fingers, came swiftly around the table, and pulled Glorfindel up by his elbow. Without a word to anyone, he walked purposefully from the room with Glorfindel in tow. A few pairs of eyes gazed upon them, but it happened so quickly that no one had a chance to stop them or say a word. They went up. Up and up, to the third floor, and into one of the rooms where Findekáno sometimes hid. There were still piles of things, linens over the furniture, and Beleg went to a cabinet with a sheet draped half over it. It was the only item that was not dusty. “I need help moving this,” he said. 

What Beleg asked was done, and Glorfindel waited, not liking even more what he was seeing when a door was revealed. It was small, only a third the height of most of the doors, and angled at the top. How had this never been noticed before? He was naive yes, stupid no. Káno came here. And did what?

Beleg crouched down and turned the oval knob, finding it was unlocked. “I told him he should tell you. It was not my place.” The door was unlatched. Beleg pulled it open. Some light was coming into the room yet, and shelves with letters on them could be seen. There were some boxes as well, but the letters were plentiful, and appeared organized. “Fingon told me many things. When I left, Faelion came to him. He shared those things with Faelion. He was...he was tricked, I believe. Faelion acted as if he was there to help, but he tried to take advantage of him. When Fingon did not accept his advances, Faelion threatened to tell things to you, and to Erestor, to get him kicked out of the house. Fingon did not have much left. I tried to get him to come back to the mainland, to stay with Túrin and I. Somehow, Faelion found out. I think he read one of my letters. He told Fingon if he left, he would tell his grandparents and make things known to everyone. I do not know much after that; Faelion made him stop writing to me. He was afraid of him, and there is little that Fingon is afraid of.” Beleg handed a stack of the letters to Glorfindel.

Staring, the blond was slow to take them. “You know, do you not? What happened, how I was deceived by Faelion, the choice I made and the consequences?” The colorful eyes filled with a deep anguish.

“I know enough,” said Beleg. “I think it is important to consider, as you speak of not being trusted...it was not exactly that. He was manipulated by someone who is dangerous. It is not only that Faelion wants to get his way, he knows how to do it, because he is trained to help with matters of the mind and he can use that to his advantage. One of the things he was trying to convince Fingon was that he could ‘fix’ him, and make him want to have sexual relations regularly.”

Glorfindel walked to the nearest suitable piece of furniture and slumped against it, half-sitting. “I am...whatever it is I am, I desire sexual intercourse with my spouses. I crave what I may have from Findekáno. I yearn for him. For her. Them. Not only carnally. As a spirit. It is the deep desire to be at one with my mate; I should not need to explain that to you. I have never demanded nor pressured. I am not certain I have ever even asked because I am overly aware that things are terribly wrong. I know there was rape. I know there is a dissonance between body and spirit. Unhappiness. I think there is more and I do not understand. I would gladly offer myself to be slain all over again if it would give Káno healing but that is not what is needed. So I give what love I am able but it is not enough. There is nothing he can do to turn me away, do you understand? Nothing. I know I married a kinslayer. That is what I keep hoping he might believe someday, about me. The closest he ever came to driving me away was keeping secrets from me that amounted to lies, marrying me knowing he was heir to the throne without telling me. But even that does not negate my vows to him. I am his, Beleg, and I will love him. He is good, and he has been hurt badly. Worse than me, worse than Erestor – and that is saying too much.”

Beleg sat down on the floor. “I shared some of it with Gildor. That is another reason I should probably stay away for a while--I most certainly have broken promises made to Fingon not to reveal things. Before we get to that, though--I am not a sexual person. Túrin is...not very interested. We do not have a desire for that; we have what we need from one another. We can be intimate without intercourse. That is how it was so easy for me to be with Fingon. I think that helps you understand that part.” Beleg rubbed the back of his neck. “I do not know where to begin with the things Fingon did not share with you because Faelion was using them to manipulate him.”

“No,” Glorfindel waved him away. “That is not your responsibility and you have shown me more than enough kindness in revealing this...which compromises your own promises to him. Let me ask you this, Beleg, before I take these and read them. What am I really going to find in here besides heartbreaking evidence of how Faelion has hurt him...no.” He held the letters out to Beleg, shaking his head. “At some future point I may reveal that you made me aware of their existence. I know where they are. But at this time I am declining to read them. I would like him to choose to tell me but I will give him the freedom not to. I do not want to do this to him. Or you. But I thank you with all my heart for your concern toward me. Being included in even this small way is more comforting to me than I can express to you.”

Beleg sighed. “He will never tell you on his own. He thinks if he does, you will all turn him away. The reality of it is...I cannot think of a single thing that is worse than being a kinslayer. All of the things combined are probably not as bad as being a kinslayer--some of the things are not even bad, exactly. But Faelion convinced him they were, and that he was wrong, and...I will respect your wishes, but you are making it a longer, harder road.”

“Shit,” Glorfindel covered his face. “Beleg, help me. In plain words a child could not screw up, what would you do were you in my position? Tell me and I will do it. I am trying to be ethical but your words tell me my ideas go astray and this is what I mean. I try and I do not fucking understand.” His voice remained steady, but a single tear streaked down his cheek. “I want to do what will actually help him.”

Beleg fanned through the stack of letters several times. “I think I know why it was suggested that I need to leave, for a little while. He will not tell you, you will not ask me, so the only solution is just for me to go down there and start talking. He will not like that, though I think it is necessary. Right.” Beleg stretched. “You better go down and give me a moment to figure this out.”

“I am not throwing you down to be trampled. I am taking the letters with me and visibly holding them. He will see and recognize them, he will not know what you said, how much or what I read but he will be forced to assume the worst. In fact, if there are more, give me all of them. There is more to this than you know, exactly, unless he told you of the time he received from me all of the letters Erestor wrote to him but never actually gave to him when Erestor and I had an emotional chasm between us. What can I say, we have a terrible track record with letters under this roof,” he shrugged. “In fact are there more? Might as well go for the full effect.”

That was how they emerged back down with the others--each of them carrying three boxes stuffed with all of the letters they could gather, with more left up in the hidden closet. These were brought to one of the tables not far from the center area. Findekáno, who watched their return as the others had, sat up slowly, still on Maedhros’ lap. When Beleg came to resume his position on the couch, he paused before Findekáno first, placed his hands on Findekáno’s shoulders, and ever so gently invited himself to kiss Findekáno on the lips. “I am sorry, Kitten,” he said softly. “They need to know.”

It seemed that Findekáno was going to retreat, but Maedhros already had his arms around his middle. “Stop. We know. We know,” he said firmly.

Findekáno struggled a little as Beleg moved back. “You cannot. There is no way he could have told you everything! Those letters are mine--I should have burned them--let me go!”

“We know,” repeated Maedhros.

“Like hell you do--I can tell when you are bluffing, Maitimo, and--”

“We know about the fantasies.” This was Gildor’s voice. He had been looking at the instruments on the stage, and that was where he was standing. He took the steps slowly, focused on Findekáno. “The rape fantasy, or whatever you want to call it. Erotic desires to be coerced--that was why you were so hard that night Glorfindel was upset, and he took you roughly up in the library. Faelion told you it was wrong, right? Fuck Faelion. Fuck that small-minded prick. You want me to keep going, or do you want to say it in your own words?”

Standing by the refreshments table, Edrahil looked visibly uncomfortable with the turn of events. “Findekáno, we can stop this now. Tell me, and we stop.”

Limbs were already limp as Findekáno slumped back against Maedhros. He shook his head weakly. “You were never supposed to know that,” he said in a hushed voice.

Glorfindel came within a few feet of the pair, not near enough to be touched. Kneeling down, he sat on his own heels, hands folded in his lap, and regarded Findekáno. “Do you know what it feels like to be desperately in love with another person and to hear those words?” he asked softly. “We talked after you did not tell us about being in line for the throne. At least, I talked. I was angry. I felt betrayed. That is what Gildor is referring to, after all. I told you that I had sworn myself to you, that you had my unwavering loyalty regardless of my anger and my disappointment because I made a promise and I will throw myself off the nearest cliff before I fail to keep another one ever again. I have tried to give you my love in every way I know how. I have told you so many times how much it hurts when you hide away from me but you will always keep hiding, I suppose?” Glorfindel wiped away the tears streaking down his face and smiled. “So be it. You have my love and loyalty still, and the rest is what it is. I love you.” Rising he retreated back to the sofa and sat like an unseeing statue, immobile, at a distance from Erestor.

With his jaw set, eyes closed, tears streaming down his cheeks, Findekáno became a puddle in Maedhros’ lap and had to be supported to stay upright. “Not that simple,” he finally said. “He said if you ever knew, he was going to tell...he was going to tell my children. He is going to tell Ereinion and the others everything,” Findekáno wept.

“Honey, how could he ever know what you tell us? You would have to tell him, or…” Maedhros looked a little squeamish. “Do you still write to him?”

“No!” Findekáno’s answer was definitive. “It does not matter now. He will know. He checks.”

“How?” Maedhros turned Findekáno around in his lap and held Findekáno’s face in his hands. “Fin. Look at me. Tell me what he does.”

“He knows how weak I am, trying to keep people out of my mind if they are strong enough.”

“That little son-of-a-bitch,” growned Gildor. “I cannot believe he is able to do that.”

“Not him. Someone for him. He has someone else do it.” Findekáno was whimpering. “Dammit, just make it stop! I do not want this!” 

Maedhros had already captured Findekáno’s wrists in his hands. “Shh...honey...honey, you need to trust us. We are not going to let him hurt you again, but we need to know everything. Everything.”

Still numb, Glorfindel returned to Findekáno. He had not become angry, it was true. But his accusatory words may not have been any better. Every single path he chose was a wrong one, at least that part had consistency. Lowering himself again, he tentatively reached to touch one of the hands Maedhros still restrained. “I am so sorry,” he apologized in a broken voice. “Please forgive me for what I said.”

“I wanted to tell you. I wanted to tell you so many things.” Findekáno was shaking. “I just...I love my kids so much, and...I do not want to lose them...I do not want you to think I chose them over all of you, but I guess I did, and now I have nothing.” He bowed his head and continued to cry.

Edrahil was pacing, and from the way his lips moved without sound, likely conversing with Finrod and Amarië. Gildor flopped in the pile of cushions, not far from the others. 

_ Hate me later, but all I could think was I bluff well. Best poker face. He will not know if I am bluffing, and I had one shot.  _ Gildor was facedown in the cushions, yet still able to easily project to Maedhros, Erestor, and Glorfindel.

“Sweetheart, there is still another issue here,” Glorfindel told him. “I do not know yet what these things are that you believe are so horrible about yourself that would turn us or your children from you. I apologize but let us take the one already mentioned. It arouses you to fantasize about being taken forcibly, or similar? Alright. And? First, so what. Second, do you really mean to tell me Ereinion is going to stand there, especially after we have warned him that there is a blackmail attempt of this sort underway, and stand there and listen to a parade of his father’s sexual proclivities even if he cares? Frankly I do not wish to know what pleases my sire for bedsport. Though I hope our relationship becomes closer one day, I do not need it to be that close. And were it someone using the information in this manner, I hope I would be greeting the list with one really fucking big punch to the teeth of the one bringing it.”

“Edrahil, can you bring that thing with the herbs back over?” asked Maedhros.

“I am not sure that is best,” said Edrahil. “This is all becoming unconventional.”

“As you just heard, there are a lot of unconventional things going on,” Maedhros argued. “Please. His heart is racing and he is sweating. He was calm--”

“I need it. Please. I need more of it.” Findekáno was still shaking.

Edrahil hesitated another moment, but went to retrieve the equipment.

“This is going to be alright. I want you to know that,” Glorfindel said, smoothing Findekáno’s cheek. “He is not going to win.” The words were said with a prescient confidence. “We will not let him hurt you. I killed a balrog. What the fuck is he?”

Joining them in the center, Edrahil brought the device to Findekáno. This time, instead of hesitation, Findekáno took it and breathed deeply several times until Edrahil actually pulled it away. “That...that should be more than enough.”

Findekáno’s eyelids were drooping. He was more like a ragdoll in Maedhros’ arms. Maedhros opted to nestle them both on the pillows, and motioned that Glorfindel should take up the place next to Findekáno’s other side. “Edrahil, I think we could use a little time alone.”

“Of course.” Edrahiil retrieved a beverage and took it outdoors. 

Beleg decided to do the same, but only after coming into the center area to kiss the side of Findekáno’s head. “Please, Fin. You spent a long time protecting everyone. Let them protect you now.” Another kiss, and he left the room.

Erestor came down now as well, touching both Maedhros and Findekáno on the legs; Gildor snuggled near Glorfindel. “What do we do, Maedhros?” he asked quietly.

“That does not involve murder for hire or drunken assault. Hm. How much jail time is there for that on the mainland?” Glorfindel queried. “The second, not the first.”

The others stared at him.

“What? It was humor.” Then in a much lower volume, “Probably.”

“My damnation is in those letters,” spoke Findekáno. It was almost as if the other conversation was not happening and he was calm enough to make good on the idea that it no longer mattered, for if one thing was known it was as good as all of them. “I am not sure if Ereinion is my child. His mother had relations with her true husband the day of our wedding, several hours before she and I consummated our marriage. I told Faelion all about that. I told him so many things he said would be secrets between us. I always told Ereinion I was sure he was mine. I was never sure.”

“That...is emotionally very difficult but was not of your origin,” Erestor said carefully. “When did you find out about your wife’s...intimacy timetable, if I may ask?

With Maedhros spooning behind Findekáno, the beauty with disheveled dark hair tentatively reached out for Glorfindel while answering Erestor’s question. “She told me the day I sent her and the children away. Right before the war.”

“Shit,” was Maedhros’ only comment.

“No one with anything resembling a heart is going to fault you for your choice,” Erestor told him firmly. “You were bonded to children you believed to be yours. Later, well, you could have told him your doubt. You still can. Káno, you would be surprised what children innately sense about these things. I do not think this would have the impact you believe it would, at all. If anything, it could bring you closer. Whether your seed made him does not change your love for him and your other children. Does it?”

“Not as a father, but...as a king, what did I do to him? To shove that sort of responsibility on him?” Findekáno shook his head and dropped the hand which had been reaching for Glorfindel onto the pillows, resigned by the expectation of rejection. He closed his eyes.

“No,” Glorfindel said, extending to take up the hand and more; leaning so that he could both hold his hand and caress the attached forearm. “I had to listen to far too many hours of the School of Erestor. I am really surprised he did not put these in his love letters to you. He must really love you. Anyway, king, responsibility, what you are saying there is one of the logical fallacies. Master Erestor. Will you please supply the definition of a logical fallacy?”

“But of course, Lord Glorfindel,” Erestor returned with his best gravitas, actually pinching his own ass so that he would not laugh. “These are errors in reasoning, often quite common ones, that serve to undermine the logic of a given argument. They can be either illegitimate arguments or irrelevant points of observation and are often noticeable because they are absent the evidence that supports their claim.”

“Just so. Thank you. Now, ‘as a king, what did you do to him, to shove that sort of responsibility on him.’ Unfortunately there is more than one fallacy embedded in this statement/rhetorical question. You could require me to elaborate, or you could accept me telling you that you are imposing something on your son that is a construct of your own sad and distraught state of mind for which you have no evidence whatsoever as to whether or not it ‘did’ anything at all to him in the sweeping context to which you are attempting to refer. Which would actually be a whole other tangent of fallacies but do we really have to get into that? In short, Káno, you are agonizing over quite possibly nothing at all. Let us help you break free of this. You are cherished. Has it never occurred to you that your demons have no power over us?” Glorfindel gazed up into the face, wishing the golden eyes would open. He sat up a little more. “I love you with all my heart. Finya. Findekáno. Whoever else may be inside that I do not know by a name.” Leaning forward, he kissed the salty cheek.

The golden eyes fluttered open. Sandwiched between Maedhros and Glorfindel meant being warm and feeling safer. Still, Findekáno continued to shake a little. “My mind is swimming. Trying to remember what I told him, what he knows.” Findekáno groaned and tried to pull Glorfindel a little closer. “Shiiit. I...Maedhros, all those years when I was young and did not come to different overnight family events, with the cousins?”

“I...vaguely recall this. There was something about how you had to help your parents with Turgon.”

“It was because I was still…” Findekáno closed his eyes and a few tears flowed. “I was still soiling the bed at night. I was...I was embarrassed by it, and...even now, I sleep very little…”

“Yes?” prodded Maedhros when Findekáno trailed off.

“Even at this age, I am terrified I will have an accident. So stupid...”

“Where as I just do,” Erestor said drily. “Love, it is okay. Half the people in this room were tortured or brutalized or abused in some fashion that would make a lot of people lose their literal shit or piss at night. The sheets get changed, life goes on. I know the embarrassment but I also know why it is happening and talking out all the bottled up stuff inside has helped. It has not happened in awhile but if it does, it does. Do you think I will think less of you?” he said compassionately. “Gildor is right about one thing. Assume the little fuckwit knows everything. Because the truth is, when people blab all of these things about those who have been abused or what have you and try to use it as a humiliation, it can rebound horribly when it is made known that they are mocking a trauma survivor. And oh by the way, they are supposed to be a healer which is how they extracted this information in the first place. When someone no longer cares about who knows what they cannot be blackmailed. That is the key to the whole thing and though it sounds oversimple, this is all perception. If I am wrong, well, where is Edrahil? For that matter, where is Finrod?” he frowned.

“We are alone,” said Gildor. “They went out--Beleg, too--to give us privacy. Because the goal was to get Findekáno to speak to us, and, well, do you want them back in here, darling?” asked Gildor.

“N-no,” stuttered Findekáno. “I cannot have them know these things. No one should know these things. Faelion said--”

“Fuck that bitch,” interupted Maedhros. “Sorry, that was rude to all female dogs everywhere. Fuck that pile of slime. Damn, insulting to slime. Káno, listen to me--to all of us--that asshole--nope, assholes are nicer than him--he has made it his purpose to destroy this family. Why? Who knows. But this ends. This ends now. You are a king, and he is lower than a peasant, and even if you were not king, he is nothing to you. Nothing to this family, nothing to you, nothing. He is nothing. If Sauron knew all of these things about you and threatened to tell people, would you cower in your castle and shut others away?”

Findekáno considered this. “I would...probably...it would just fuel my persistence against him.”

“Right. So that is all Faelion is. Another servant of darkness. Just because he has pointy ears and long hair and counts among the Noldor does not mean he is not evil.”

“That,” Glorfindel said quietly. “At this point, when I see him in my mind he bears a whip of flame and has that terribly attractive burning costume on.” His hand took Findekáno’s chin, requiring the golden eyes to look into his. “And the nasty teeth. Remember the teeth? I think you do. They smell bad,” the blond smiled, amused before his expression hardened. “I won. You are my husband and King, mine to defend, and I will win again. I ask you for your help. Will you make my task easier, or harder? Because either way Findekáno, this is war with him. The sum of his actions are a kind of foul worthy of Gríma Wormtongue, someone you never had the pleasure of knowing. This ends.”

Findekáno leaned into the touch, and Maedhros snuggled closer. “A lot of it was sexual dysfunction. Well, what he called dysfunction. There...there is just so much. When Beleg left, Faelion made it seem like he...like he wanted to take care of me. I thought he loved me for who and what I am. In the end, he just wanted to make me into what he wanted.” Findekáno shook his head. “You just...want me to...go through it all? Or as much as I remember...my head is a little cloudy…”

“Sweetie, you had enough of that stuff to make Asfaloth canter around in a circle while leaning to one side thinking he is having conversations with sugar cubes,” remarked Gildor. “No one expects you to recall every detail, but I think a general ‘no more secrets’ for anything on your mind would be accurate. Look, I can go first if that helps,” offered Gildor. “When no one is looking, well Mae Mae knows about this, I pick my nose. Actually, Glorfindel might have caught me once or twice, but I made bullshit excuses for it.”

Erestor’s face transformed into guilt and he glanced at Findekáno while grasping a little harder at Maedhros’ leg. “There were, uhm…” He swallowed hard. “There might have been these three times when some of the cooking utensils fell on the floor and you were not around to know about it and I just put them back in the container,” he fretted, becoming more anxious, now unwilling to look up. “And…” he trailed off and when he resumed speaking his voice was very strained. “And one of the times I was upset with you over something. I do not recall what it was except that it was stupid. Dog Dog licked the spatula when it was on the floor and I just put that back too.” Quiet, and the dark curtain of hair hid his face. “I am sorry.”

“Sometimes, I get blood on the seat of the toilet or the floor, and I know I should really scrub it clean, but if I wipe it off and I see no residue, I just leave it,” admitted Glorfindel. “There was one time, I forgot that I had some on the floor because someone was at the door, and I came back and Dog Dog was licking it up, and I thought, well...I was miserable and cramped, so I walked away.”

“I usually do not wash my hands after I finish using the loo,” said Maedhros. “I figure, if I do not touch it, why waste time washing my hands.”

Findekáno looked mortified, but then let out a slight chortle. “You are all gross,” he said softly, but he did not sound particularly upset. “Alright, well… speaking of the loo, and related things...I used to use enemas for sexual gratification. Fae--er, you know who was very disturbed by this, and told me it was one of the worst things I was doing. However, he did not start by telling me that. He asked me to describe it all to him, and then he offered to help me, which was not something I was expecting. I had also told him about some of the other things I like...like being restrained, so he tied me down, and he very carefully administered the enema, until I told him it was too much but he kept going. Then he plugged me up and that was when he scolded me, and he told me this was going to train me not to want to do it anymore, and...he was not exactly wrong, because it was no longer pleasurable, and I got scared, and he kept emphasizing that this was a medical procedure, not something for me to get off on. So...remember how I had migrated in to join the three of you, and then I abruptly stopped and went back to my own room and kept the door locked? That was why. That was when he threatened me that he would tell you, Glorfindel, Erestor, about everything and it would disgust you and you would make me leave...and, right, logic, I was vulnerable and lonely and afraid and I felt I had nowhere to go, and he is very convincing.”

“Manipulative,” corrected Maedhros. “He is a master of manipulation, and I am so sorry you had to experience that. He is a monster--he knows just how to use someone’s secrets and fears to bend them to his will.”

“Obviously that would not have disturbed me,” Erestor pointed out. “Not about you. Learning that he had done this to you...I honestly do not know what I would have done. Glorfindel was already involved with him again but I know that cruelty of that nature would have provoked a reaction from me...while it is too late to turn back time, I know what I did to Gildor when I felt he had been horrible to Glorfindel. Something within me snapped. I do not believe I would have stood by.”

Glorfindel appeared uncomfortable. “Findekáno, there is something I did not tell you, about Faelion. I ask your forgiveness for this, Erestor as well. It was not that I meant to hide from you. It was...that it was so bad I needed to hide it from myself, get away from the memories. I was so afraid. But you need to understand that he is not just persuasive.” For a moment he paused, whether organizing his thoughts or gathering courage none knew but Erestor abandoned Maedhros to take Glorfindel’s hand. Gildor moved to place his arms around him; both were acknowledged with a nod.

“After I had the surgery to reconstruct my vagina there was a day I went out with Lindir. I asked as a favor for him to please get me some trousers. I wanted to feel ordinary for a few hours, ditch the stupid skirt and just...be me while we had a meal and wandered the shops and conversed. It was lovely, and I changed before he returned me home. A nice break, or so I thought. I do not know how, but Faelion found out, presumably because he had me followed. The next day I was to go with him to see to some of the young animals. While I walked on his arm, he began to speak about what was expected of me as his wife, and my femininity. That he knew what I had done yesterday and that he was extremely disappointed in me but understood that I still might have unfortunate tendencies. Then, he...he began neutering the calves and lambs.

“He explained that I of course knew why this was done, to curb their expression of male tendencies, and that he now had to consider what was to be done with me. That he would be kind, and give me sedation or anesthesia before altering me, and that probably he would leave me with my penis because of course the testes were likely the problem. He was still undecided, and I should be aware that any further display of masculine behavior on my part would assuredly hasten his conclusion. Then he asked me if I had any questions concerning what he had just told me.” 

Closing his eyes, he sighed deeply. “I broke down in tears and apologized, promising him it would not happen again. I begged on my knees that he not do that to me. You see, I knew he could. As a healer he had all the drugs. Nothing could be simpler than doping me at any time, and I would wake to find I had been castrated. He knew how, and I was powerless. His answer was to stare down at me, pet my hair like I was the dog, and tell me ‘we shall see how you do.’ He left me like that, crying, until he was finished and a servant assisted him to clean his hands. Then he brought me back inside. He was nice to me for a little while, then he took me for sex. It hurt a lot, like it always did but I did not dare make a sound. Instead I held onto him, telling him I loved him while he was making me bleed. In my screwed up head, I believed I did. Pretty sad, no? But that is what he reduced me to. For a long time I blamed myself. Some of the fault was mine because I was unfaithful to Erestor, but even then there were his lies and deceits. I did not deserve the outcome and neither did you, Káno. Maedhros is right. He is the spawn of trolls and orcs.”

“Has anyone ever spoken to his parents?” asked Gildor. “Morbid curiosity, not the discussion for this moment, exactly, but we do know that he was raised both in Gondolin and here by Salgant and Duilin. I have questions...but not for now. Now is about healing the past, and not feeling shamed into hiding things.”

“Not that I know of. I suppose I could,” Glorfindel considered. “While it is a little...humiliating to have to go to my one-time peers and admit to them that this is what their ‘son’ reduced me to, it is not my shame.”

“You would not go alone,” Erestor said firmly. “But Gildor is right. What now? Beyond that, nothing you have said bothers me in the least, Findekáno.”

“Alright, well...now that you know Finya...how comfortable would any of you be making love to me--not Finya, I guess, that all requires better explanations...but, what if we were to have intimacies where I wanted you to blindfold me and pretend I was a woman?” Findekáno held his breath and worried the blanket with his fingers.

“Erestor’s dream come true,” Glorfindel giggled.

“Oh shut up,” Erestor swatted him with a mock surly expression, and pinched his ass for good measure. “Fin and I would be pretty happy to ravish you.”   
  
“Ress!”

“Okay it sounded better before I said it!” Erestor blushed but cleared his throat. “Uhm, does this mean you might do the corset and, you know, the whole thing?” he asked hopefully.

“Um...if the whole thing is...cosmetics, clothing, smooth body, soft voice...I would most certainly do all of that if there is a chance of being ravished,” said Findekáno. “It would, um...it would not be Finya. That should be made clear. She is...a girl with a lot of ideas and things she wants to watch, but...she is not that kind of girl, if you get my meaning.”

“Mmmmmm,” Erestor smiled happily. “I do look forward to meeting the kind of girl who is.”

Findekáno blushed.

Glorfindel rolled his eyes.

“I do not know if I can,” Maedhros said. “That probably sounds very, very shitty of me, but I do not think it would be enjoyable for each of us. I accept everything you are, Káno, but…”

“If you look in a dictionary, you will find Mae Mae’s picture under ‘homosexual’,” offered Gildor. “Or, maybe a portrait of both of us, because I am not particularly interested in...well, I want something up my ass, or something in my mouth, or, yes please, both. Both is really good.” And Gildor seemed to dwell on that thought for a moment.

“I think we can all agree that with so many of us and so many possibilities--” began Findekáno.

“Thirty-one different combinations,” said Gildor. “If one counts mastrubatory experiences.”

Maedhros quirked a brow at Gildor. “Down, boy.”

“I would say that the essential answer is ‘two verys’ to the original question,” Erestor pointed out. “Excluding assisted masturbatory experiences, I am thinking, which, those are something we believed you would reject from us so we did not even try. I think we can explore this in detail later?”

“I made a chart,” added Gildor proudly.

Findekáno seemed slightly suspicious of Gildor’s declaration, but nodded to Erestor. “That is something I would like to explore with the two of you.”

“Now, as for sexual intimacies that include enema use,” said Maedhros, “that is something I think I could handle, and either Gildor or Glorfindel, with their health knowledge, might be ideal candidates to help.”

“Full honesty? I am kind of curious to try it if it feels good. I mean, I am not adverse to exploration, I just do not know what to do really. I have never been in an environment where I ever wanted an enema anything but over with but...Elrond is, uhm, no offense Maedhros but he is the least likely person to bring a sexual thought into my head of pretty much anyone I can think of,” Glorfindel mused.

“It was an accident. I do use them for health, but one night...I guess I had already been aroused earlier, and I wondered, what happens if I use something to help me retain the fluid, and I had a bath drawn for after but I got in...I never had to touch myself. It was really good,” said Findekáno. “Sorry,” he whispered, for he realized he was getting hard and that his erection would be felt now by Glorfindel. “Maybe Faelion did not entirely ruin that for me, but I tried hard to put it out of my mind after he did what he did.”

“There is no need to apologize to me, sweetheart, ever. I always want you. You could sneak me off into a closet and I would think that was the best thing ever,” the colorful eyes twinkled. “I just do not ever try to initiate or press you because I am afraid of doing something wrong,” Glorfindel concluded softly.

“That is just something I need to do better on,” said Findekáno. “There are so many things going on in my head, and, again, this comes down to logic. I should know logically that there are things I do enjoy, I should be able to tell you those things...I have felt for a long time as if he was always looming over me, watching everything, listening to everything.”

“I do not want you to have to worry about that right now,” Glorfindel told him. “I love you. The first and only thing is you begin feeling safe again. And...please, I feel this is serious, and that Edrahil and Finrod should be here? Uncle Felagund was helping my father with belongings of mine Faelion has not returned to me. Uncle Felagund does not know what I told you just now but he should. My father wants to help and I am going to welcome that, but I am trusting Uncle to...direct him.”

The evening was spent going through what would be found in the letters, or at least everything Findekáno could recall at present. The others added in their own anecdotes and memories when appropriate, and there were other lesser secrets revealed by the rest of the household. When Edrahil came in to check on them it was dark outside, and collectively the decision was made to bring the session to a close. 

Finrod took up the task of preparing a meal for everyone while Amarië and Eruglar recounted their adventure. During supper, Eruglar nearly fell asleep in his soup, which prompted early bedtimes for everyone.

A cozy room was quickly freshened for Finrod, Edrahil and Amarië with many sincere thanks for their help as well as the offer to extend their stay and spare themselves the expense of an inn. Glorfindel briefly mentioned to his uncle that there was a conversation he wished to have tomorrow with a sad smile, as he was the last one to bid them a good rest and disappear up the stairway to the upper storeys after seeing to their final comforts.

They were not so much physically weary as deeply preoccupied, and everyone sought the warmth under the covers with an unusual scarcity of words.

It was Findekáno who broke the silence. “Could...could someone hold me tonight?”

There was a scramble, and after what was a ridiculous amount of wrestling with the blankets and elbows banging into chins, Maedhros gave one of his head-splitting whistles. “Before someone gets hurt, I have an idea based on something Gildor suggested. This bed is big enough for us to sleep in a sort of circle--if our feet are all in the middle, pillows on the edges, we can all snuggle and spoon each other.”

“I like this idea!” Gildor was already throwing pillows around and yanking blankets into the center so that the others either had to join in or dodge moving soft objects.

Short Glorfindel thought this was wonderful; he fit perfectly anywhere he wished to, and where he wished to was shamelessly between Findekáno and Gildor. Maedhros had Káno’s other side with Erestor next at Gildor’s insistence, though Erestor did try to give that place to Gildor until Glorfindel glared at him balefully. So he shrugged and did the only sensible thing; got under the covers and grabbed both of Gildor’s ass cheeks. Maedhros kept craning his head around trying to comprehend why Gildor was giggling so hard, and achieved no success. Someone had a great deal to learn about his new spouse, who appeared to be resting peacefully.

Around midnight, Gildor woke with a need to use the chamberpot, but found he was wedged in the ‘wonder wheel’, as he would begin to call this arrangement. Then he snorted, for he found that Erestor’s hands were still resting on his butt.

Ever a light sleeper, Erestor opened one eye. “Whasat?” he muttered.

“I feel I should reciprocate.”

“Recipro…?”

Gildor gave one of Erestor’s rear cheeks a pat.

“Mmmmmm. Nice. Warm.” Erestor wiggled backwards more, seeking Gildor’s body heat and his skin.

“Have to piss, but, warm. Do not want to get up.” Gildor moved closer to Erestor. “Hey do you remember that conversation, what, a few weeks back where there were jokes about making a spanking machine? What if it was...what if it could do a lot of things?”

“Think I know what you want it to do,” Erestor giggled, making a few gentle humping motions. “Fin already worked it out, actually. Just never built it. Simple reciprocating... _ shaft…”  _ he whispered very softly into Gildor’s ear. The discussion was already as the breezes in the night, unvoiced so as not to wake their companions. “Either hand cranked or possibly weight-operated. Had not worked out how to control the  _ thrusting speed _ ,” he mused, reaching back and twisting around to loosely embrace Gildor. “Cannot get carried away.” Long fingers traced lazy patterns over a bare chest. “Do you know, I missed your clever mind, Inglorion? So many ideas.” A light kiss, a tease, was pressed at the edge of his lips.

“Who would not?” he preened.”I am full of possibilities. Just like the spanking machine. It should be multi-utilitarian with different attachments. There should be an enema option too, and we can call it the Ass Master. I know just where we can field test the prototype. No, wait, it could be the mAsster. Get it? Though, I think the first one is better. The literature could be written to market it to both singles and couples, for the pairs that want that mutual satisfaction action. What do you think?”

“I think you could sell water to a fish, and I think you need something in your mouth. If you would like something in my mouth too, I am offering.” His hand caressed Gildor’s groin, and he guided his talkative sleepmate’s hand to his own phallus. It would seem all the time observing Maedhros had been good for something, because the arrangement was accepted readily. When Erestor added a few fingers to his efforts two happier, more relaxed and sleepier people somehow made use of the chamberpots without incident and returned to bed. After a sweet kiss good night, Gildor snuggled onto Glorfindel and Erestor made use of one of Maedhros’ long legs and half his bottom as a body pillow. In his dreams, he visualized the splendor of the mAster AssMaster, polished and ready for action….. _ uuuuuhhhhhhnnnnnnnn…. _


	15. Chapter 15

The next morning, Findekáno awoke sleepily, and then rushed to the window where the lit red candle was nearly to the end of the wick. He hastily blew it out and sighed in relief.

“So glad you remembered,” said Maedhros as he sat up and yawned, awakened by the covers being shoved off when Findekáno left the bed. A moment later he sniffed the air. “Are those pancakes?”

“Pancakes!” Gildor flung off the blankets, emerging from the cuddle pile. Glorfindel cursed at the loss of warmth, and Erestor simply grumbled and wrapped himself around Maedhros. “Wait. None of us are gone. Who made pancakes?”

Erestor yawned mightily, mumbled something about ‘ass master’, smiled, and nuzzled closer to Maedhros.

“We do have other guests in the house,” Findekáno reminded them as he placed the candle into a box for safe keeping once it was cooled. “As long as they are not suggestive pancakes--”

“OOoh! Suggestive pancakes!” Gildor bolted out of the room. He ran back in a moment later to retrieve a robe, and ran out again.

The other four waited a moment. Glorfindel sat up and looked around for slippers. “Should we--”

“We should go after him,” confirmed Maedhros.

Pancakes turned out to be round and nothing more, filled with blueberries or chocolate, and made by Edrahil. The proud grandparents were already off on another adventure with Eruglar and Asfaloth, and Edrahil explained while the others ate that he had a day-long activity for the group of lovers to work on. “I think you will find it enjoyable--at least, I hope you will.” He would not tell them more until they were fed, bathed, and dressed, waiting in the sitting room. The doors to the great room were closed. 

“Today, you each have an assignment--four assignments, and...one extra credit, which is optional. The required assignment is to create something for each of the other people in your relationship...pod. I am going to refer to it as that until you tell me there is another name to use, but I have been searching for a word that relates to your unique set of relationships, and that is what I have. So, for example, Gildor will create something for Glorfindel, and something else for Maedhros, and something else for Findekáno, and something entirely different for Erestor. It could be a poem, a story, a letter, a sculpture, a piece of art...anything, really.”

“What about food?” asked Findekáno. “I am...poor at art, and I do well with letters but those are usually for business and after last night I am disinclined to write letters at the moment, and I lack when it comes to storytelling.”

“That would be fine...songs can work, too,” suggested Edrahil. “You would not have to write the song--you could just sing or play something that reminds you of each of them.”

“Oh...maybe I could do that,” murmured Findekáno.

Gildor raised his hand. “For those who want extra credit?”

“Two options. You can create something for yourself, or something for someone else who is special to you. A child, an ex-lover you stay in close contact with, a parent, an aunt or uncle--”

“A favorite uncle?” Gildor grinned and waggled his brows. “Do I get extra extra credit for that?”

“Please concentrate on the other assignments first,” said Edrahil with a smile. “Now, you need a theme. And that theme is love and identity. Something I overheard a lot yesterday was that there are different facets of each person here, really, and that you all love each other unconditionally. I want you to make things which honor that.” Edrahil went to the doors and pushed them open, then motioned for the others to enter.

There were many more supplies now than the previous day, and extra inks, quills, paper, and a few additional areas set up for writing and creating. The curtains were all pulled back to let in the natural light, and the snacks had been replenished. “Before supper, we will sit in the circle and everyone will share what they made.”

Erestor stood, eyes closed, rubbing and rubbing them.

“Ress?” Glorfindel asked.

“It is not really appropriate discussion,” he said, barely audibly. “An idea Gildor– “

“Did you have a question, Erestor?” Edrahil asked.

Flaming suddenly scarlet, Erestor attempted to maintain some dignity despite his heated cheeks. “No, I do not, and thank you very much for providing the breakfast. That was very kind of you.”

Edrahil motioned to Erestor. “My office, please,” he said with the authority of a teacher because, well, that was what he was. He continued through the room to the hallway that led to the guest rooms on the other side of the house.

“He has an office here now?” asked Gildor in awe.

Obediently Erestor followed, not quite understanding how it had come to be that he was effectively being taskmastered in his own home, but he submitted because it was to help them and Eru knew they needed it. When they reached the chosen room and Edrahil closed the door, he waited patiently, trying to divest himself of anxiety. It would not be entirely possible, but he had made progress and he accepted this as a positive.

“I have known Gildor all my life,” Edrahil started with. The office was not much of an office--there was no furniture, and in fact, it seemed to have been a randomly selected room. “That means, I know Gildor. If there is a more sexual person, I have not yet met them. This exercise is for all of you to do as you please. You are all adults. I am not going to restrict creativity. In fact, if it is preferred, I do not necessarily need to be present when you give each other your gifts--I think you could handle facilitating that.”

“Your meaning is plain enough,” Erestor smiled. “May I ask you for your counsel concerning this creating potential discomfort for Káno? Though, now that we have learned what we have learned, I am uncertain what we will experience next.”

“Art therapy and journaling are two of the most basic types of therapy I can offer. I use both when dealing with children. I do not say that to be demeaning; it is more that I do not fear discomfort. Findekáno loves all of you. Once the thoughts start free flowing, I think you will be surprised at the outcome. I think Gildor will actually have the most trouble. For all I know, he is out there right now creating paper mache dildos for all of you,” said Edrahil with a straight face.

“Is having that much sexuality a means of burying or distracting from issues a person does not want to face?” Erestor asked obliquely, at first looking Edrahil in the eyes then shifting his gaze. “The reason I am asking you is that there are things I wonder about. I confess to you now that I had experiences after the fall of Gondolin and imprisoned in Angband. I think they may not have been good? I have kept them hidden. I think of telling them and the excuse I come up with is that they seem trivial now. I am telling you because I think I might need help? Telling them? I lie to myself very easily, Edrahil, and I have struggled to be a better person. Prayed. It would be wrong of me not to be as open to you as possible while this chance exists. I did...this is not the time for these things, I know. Project. Projects. I will do as you ask” he smiled graciously. “Maybe today is even a six.”

“Hold, Erestor,” said Edrahil when it looked as if Erestor was about to leave. “I am here to help all of you, not just selected aspects of some of you. If you would like to talk privately now or later, we can. You are my friend, Erestor...I am here for you.”

“It is your decision. I have not discussed these things for a very long time. But when we do? I would ask Gildor to be here. He was the one to...find me, in Gondolin. I was, uhm…” the dark brows knitted. “I belonged to an Orc Captain. He was my master. In fact, you have made up my mind. There is too much going on that is forward-looking between the five of us, and I want to focus on that right now? But at some point, this other is something I wish to revisit. You have my permission to raise the topic if you feel there is a good moment. What I mean is, it is not a pressing thing or a personal priority. Just something I do not want to fail to address. Am I making any sense?” he pleaded.

“Absolutely. I will tell you, Gildor has spoken about what happened at the end of the First Age, and I suspect a lot of the mentions of things are tied to you,” said Edrahil. “I think it will be best for the three of us to have some sessions, privately, for you to sort things out, before you speak with the others, which can be done as a group with me there. How does that sound?”

“The answer to many prayers,” Erestor smiled, genuinely pleased. “I do not know how to thank you. I mean it. For so long, there has been nowhere to turn. You are a gift from Eru. Anything within my ability I may do in return, I am at your service and in your debt.” He held his hand over his heart.

“Just…” Edrahil looked uncertain about the request he was about to make, but then said, “Gildor is as much my son as he is Felagund and Amarie’s. Knowing that he is safe and loved is my greatest concern. I know he is safe and loved here.”

“He is inextricable,” Erestor declared with a sense of awe. “I still cannot believe that he consented to Maedhros’ connection to...well Findekáno at least made sense but me? I am still trying to make sense of it though I know I should not bother. Nothing has ever felt so right in all my life...but I share a husband with Gildor. I was attracted to him once for a reason, and it was not only his physical presence. There is far more underneath the grand showman. Right now I love him on principle. In time there is a probability of more but I do not intend to rush. Spontaneity is really not my defining characteristic.”

“Erestor.” Edrahil took hold of Erestor’s hands and held them firmly. “I am telling you something that technically, I should not from a standpoint of confidentiality, but I think you already partially know. And because, we are all basically family now, and that does make it a little different. Gildor has very few regrets. There was always something that he said he wished he had resolved earlier, and that was his relationship with Glorfindel. He is...he is excited at the prospect of not only rekindling what he had with Glorfindel, but also, that he might have a second chance for what the two of you lost in the trauma of the second age. He feels, for him to be a blockade to Maedhros for you, or for Findekáno, that is not fair considering what he hopes for.”

“Maybe this speaks to what foolish emotions envy and jealousy can be, but I honestly believe that in His wisdom Eru guided us on our strange paths with a purpose. I had to literally almost die before I could understand that the free gift of love given to me by others was not to be trivialized as I had done my entire life. Glorfindel threw away his right to me, in a sense, and on his return found another in his place and the dynamic was already set by which jealousy was the furthest thing from anyone’s mind. All the three of us wished to do was love and help each other with our problems. Then Maedhros and Gildor came, with substance abuse problems of their own and...things...and unhealed old wounds and then this all became a snowball racing downhill. I only wish to do my best in honesty and light, helping others. Edrahil, I want to be the anti-Faelion. We all do. I have no simpler way of summing it up.”

“I think you are all doing a fine job. I can tell you from my experiences, a relationship is hard. A relationship with more than two people...the rewards are greater, but the work is greater as well. What you have accomplished, you should all be proud.” Edrahil let go of Erestor’s hands. “Should we go and see if my hunch was right, or if Gildor chose instead to write bawdy poetry for everyone. And, in regards to what you asked earlier? Gildor just likes sex. There is absolutely nothing in his life going on that he is using it as a substitute or anything else. He is just a very confidently sexual man.”

“Thank you. And so it is plain, though I am obviously not a Healer, if you ever feel like it would help to talk about your own experiences...being forced out and betrayed by your family...feeling like you really should not be here any longer...I would listen. There is some solidarity in knowing that assholes are everywhere, family is something that we often have to choose because the one we actually have is poisonous, and in general realizing how not alone we really are. I do not know you as well as I should like but I hope that changes in days to come.” Erestor squeezed Edrahil’s forearm.

“Thank you. I may take you up on that. Shall we?” Edrahil opened the door.

Erestor swept out. His return to the room made for an appealing vision though he did not know. Silken hair swept along like filament at his least movement, streaming behind him and swaying with each step. He was of course the most eager to behold Gildor’s project, so he came up behind and swept his hair back over one shoulder so he could see without hair cascading everywhere; it would have to be put up if he hoped to accomplish anything.

There were no traces of paper mache penises or sexually explicit materials. Instead, Gildor was folding ornate paper birds. “Welcome back. Did you get detention?”

“Attention, retention, contention, no detention and definitely no defenestration.” Erestor bent down and kissed the crown of Gildor’s head and gave a gentle hug to his shoulders plus a few quick kneads of the shoulder blade. “I am sent to tell you all that there is a physical creative option as well for those wishing to utilize this, which is that your gift may be of a physical nature. How physical is between the giver and the recipient. Or of course one of the original media may still be chosen.”

Gildor groaned slightly at the light massage. He set down what looked like it would eventually become an eagle and brushed his fingertips along Erestor’s hand. He stood up and leaned in to whisper, “Follow me out in two minutes. Behind the stable.”

As Gildor walked out he passed by Maedhros, who was sitting in a cozy chair across from Glorfindel, both of them working on something they were writing. Maedhros glanced up, then looked over his shoulder at Erestor, and winked. He looked back down at his writing and said, “Findekáno decided to make food for everyone.”

“And the food will be very good, because Erestor did not. Maedhros, would you braid my hair for me? You can tell me to be a grown-up. When it is this long it is hard to get it started though. I wanted to put it up.”

Without looking up, Maedhros said, “Gildor likes it loose.”

Glorfindel, also not looking up, grinned.

Maedhros cleared his throat. “He told us what happened in the wee hours. I think you have about...thirty seconds? Not enough time to braid your hair. But do not fret--I promise one of us will comb it for you when you get back in.”

Glorfindel’s smile widened.

“I...oh. Am I going to need a pocket appointment book? This is kind of exciting,” Erestor smiled. He stood near Maedhros. “Despite the linguistic travesty, may I call you Mae like the others do? I did not know if it is a nickname you actually like, as opposed to one you simply do not dislike, if that makes any sense?”

Maedhros set down his quill. “My good friend and ally, Azaghâl, mispronounced my name the first time we met. I was told by my brothers I was too polite not to correct him. We had many meetings, and as our friendship grew, we laughed about the mistake, but he still called me ‘May-drhahz’, and that eventually became ‘Mae’ with a hard A. And then Gildor made it Mae Mae, and Gildor is cute, and I thought it was cute, and it reminds me of a very good friend I shall not see again.” Maedhros reached out and squeezed Erestor’s hand. “You can call me Mae or Mae Mae or something else if you like. However...you are late,” he teased.

“Oh!” Erestor bit his lip dashing off as quickly as he could without risking his back or a stubbed toe (or broken furniture), fingers carding at his hair anyway in a battle to subjugate the inky mass into temporary obedience. At least, until he arrived behind the stable rosy-cheeked and doing his best to pretend he had not exerted himself too much.

And there was Gildor, back against the stable, eyes dark with desire. His shirt was partially open and he crooked a finger at Erestor. “I do hope this is what you were referring to in there. I hope, by your appearance here, it is.”

Erestor’s expression did not alter though he did let his hair drop, abandoning that attempt while he walked closer. With no warning he dropped to his knees and hugged Gildor tightly around the waist. “That and more. I am so sorry for what I did to you in the Second Age. You deserved better than what I had become.” Leaning back somewhat, Erestor fully opened the front of his shirt but did not part the fabric. “Please give me another chance, Gildor. Even if the answer is not favorable, be assured of my love and intention to care for you as we share a spouse.”

“Sweetie, if we compare the amount of assholery we participated in against each other, I think you would find that I would win.” Gildor helped Erestor rise up again. “I was thinking about some of the things I did to you and the things I said and threatened. I was manipulating you the same way that Faelion has been manipulating Findekáno and Glorfindel. At least with what you did, I mean...all you had to do was invite me along--both Maglor and Galugil are sexy beyond belief. We could have had a party,” Gildor drawled. He touched Erestor under the chin and seemed to contemplate his next move. “I had a lot of fun last night. I think you know what my answer is to you.” His first kiss was tentative, and his eyes remained open, but subsequent kisses became more aggressive as Erestor returned the affection, arms around each other’s waist.

Erestor broke away for air, lips reddened with want. A few kisses were pressed down the line of Gildor’s throat. “There is something you need to understand. This is not the first time you have referred to Maglor and Galugil. You have strong abilities of the mind. I am lowering my barriers, letting you in. Please believe me when I tell you that whatever I did with them, I have no memory of it. My guess is that I was drunk, took drugs, maybe both. That was...usually the only means by which I could override what the clinic had done. I never meant to hurt you or Glorfindel; I was a ruined mess underneath a pretty face. I am doing my best to recall that time.” He tightened his hold, pulling their bodies into far more intimate contact. ”You would not have acted toward me as you did, I think, had I not been what I was. Forgive me.” 

Realizing he hardly needed his mouth for speech, Erestor resumed kissing slowly, finding absolution in Gildor’s quick response. Curious how his partner would wish to be indulged, and realizing he did not need to wonder...  _ Well Mae, out with it. How may I please him best? _

_ Ask him. _ It seemed that was the only advice, but there was an addendum.  _ He loves the sound of your voice. He has a thing for deep voices. _

Rolling his eyes, Erestor smiled.  _ Still here, Gildor? Is he right? I have to stop kissing you to ask you aloud, but name it and it is yours.  _ Pushing upward with his toes, he deepened his kiss with one hand sliding up the nape of the flaxen mane to support his head. His frame trembled a little from the effort; a frown briefly darkened the fair face at his uncooperative body. Mostly he felt recuperated from his physical exertions of a few days’ prior. Mostly

Gildor grinned as his back hit the wooden panel of the stable. “Never left...rarely ever leave him...but I want to hear your voice, beautiful.” He fingered a length of Erestor’s dark hair, and lifted it up to take in the scent and kiss it. “I miss the sounds you would make when I did this.” Gildor dropped to his knees, hastily pulled down Erestor’s pants, and ran his tongue from root to tip, while looking up at Erestor longingly.

“Uhhhh-hhhhnnnnnhhnn!” A rumble of surprise ran through Erestor’s chest as his hand sought something and his knees buckled a little. “I...did not...forgot about...not sure what to say, that was...my voice, my hair, but those are not exactly things I am doing for you I do not think? Would you tell me more? Please?”

“Mmm...just want to hear you.” Gildor flicked his tongue over the head of Erestor’s growing erection. “Love how much fun it is to watch you become undone...have you thought about the sort of naughty fun you, I, and Mae Mae can get into?”

“Hm.” The dark head tilted. “Are you my Master as well?” he purred.

Gildor chuckled. “Oh, no, darling. You and I are in the same harem now.” He winked, then took the whole of Erestor’s length down his throat.

“Harem? Hmmmm. I might like that even more.” Nimble fingers combed through Gildor’s hair. “Does that mean from time to time you might wear a veil with me?” he teased. “So that our husband might have to choose which of us to reveal first? Mmmm but then again you are like a radiant jewel of many colors, one almost has to see you displayed. It would be like wrapping up a peacock in fabric. What is the point, mmmm?”

Gildor pulled back with a -pop- and looked up as Erestor’s cock bobbed up and down. He pointed up at him and said, “Actually want to talk to you about something related to that, but, sex first, please?” Gildor tongued at the flesh he could get to without grabbing at the base to keep it steady.

“Anything for you, Gildor. Anything. Hmmm. I have never had a pet name for you. This seems remiss. Atrocious even. You have done much for me,” he pondered. “So very much and oh fuck what did you just do there?” The chocolate eyes widened, and Erestor found he was being ignored. “Well anyway as I was ahhhhhnnnhhh! Ohhhh! What in…” his knees buckled, and Gildor seemed to expect this, for he kept Erestor from coming down very hard. In the few seconds while Erestor pondered the jolt of pleasure he had felt, his pants had been removed and Gildor was on him again, except he lay on his back with his long legs draped over Gildor’s shoulders. “How did I ever turn from this?” he whispered to himself. “I was so ill.”

“You are still as tasty as ever.” Gildor took Erestor back into his mouth and hummed while fondling his testicles with one hand and teasing the pucker with the thumb of his other hand. Swallowing repeatedly, Gildor stayed relaxed. He changed his tone, making the vibrations slower or faster to add a little flair to his technique.

“Do I need to tell you how good you are at this? I was a fool. Such a fool. Or just that sick. Maybe both? Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh….may...no, wait, if you do not...do you not prefer being the recipient of this as well, if you do not wish the other? I...ohhhhhhhh...what I mean is I too like to give though I Blessed Eru what are you DOING to me?!?” Involuntarily, his entire body twisted, his spine arching. Something out of his conscious control sent his groin thrusting deeper into the warm, smooth throat, bringing him closer to release. “Cannot finish a...fuck why am I talking?” now his head turned to the side, staring into the taller grasses here. Eyes closed, he tried to center himself, and trembled a little. So close.

Unwilling to lose contact again to speak, Gildor invaded Erestor’s mind.  _ You are talking because I want to hear you talking. I want to hear you unravel as I drive you mad with desire. I want you to scream my name like you used to. _

“I am also anxious,” Erestor forced himself to speak again. “Please hold my hand? I want you,” he tried to keep his voice steady. “So much. I am having a hard time feeling like I deserve you. I should have realized this would happen. I am trying...so close...just a little more, please let me come. Was trying to say before, I am not as good at this as you are but is anyone?” A little snort escaped him and he tried again to thrust into the moist heat.

_ Just relax. Close your eyes. Come for me.  _ Gildor paused just long enough to spit on his fingers so that they could breach Erestor before he returned to sucking on his impressive length.

Erestor tried to do as he was asked; the response once he was penetrated seemed nearly immediate. What felt very disconcerting in the moment was how much he needed to be held. “Gildor!” Erestor shouted, both in bliss and stripped to defenseless vulnerability. He orgasmed hard, continuing to repeat Gildor’s name but almost with increased tones of anguish, one hand knotting into the grass. Unexpected emotion welled up and tears flooded out. Not a muscle moved; it might not have been possible.

A handkerchief was produced; Gildor lovingly cleaned up what he had not swallowed. Erestor was clothed again, and Gildor joined him on the grass, pulling him into his arms. “As much as I enjoy sex, I like this part almost as much. The sweet surrender to desire and the aftermath of the explosion.” He kissed Erestor and rubbed his back while they were entwined.

“There is more,” Erestor sniffled. “Thinking about some of this is leading to some really buried things returning. I knew that I loved you back then. I did not know how much or where it might lead because I took what was there and backed it into a cage at the end of a deep tunnel. I know that all I can do about my past is acknowledge it and move forward but there are times it is very bitter and this is one of them. It will pass. What I really need to say to you is that when I asked you for a second chance, I meant it in reference to how I truly felt about you then – if I had not been so busy lying to myself.” He snuggled a little closer, doing all he could to form himself against Gildor’s body.

“Sweatpea, stop BEETing yourself up--see what I did there? We were both brutal. Truce. All the past, behind us, and leave it there. Forward, like you said. I do have one question. Do I ever get that rematch from that horse race where you so blatantly cheated?” Gildor’s tone was teasing on this last point.

“You ask more than you realize. I will do it, and your rematch too, but it is going to cost you a little something,” Erestor purred back so that each enunciation brushed his lips down Gildor’s ear.

“Name your price, my pretty poppycock,” said Gildor as he gave Erestor a playful nip.

“I will do my best to please you. I love seeing those I love happy. You are beautiful and so many things I am not. I appreciate that suddenly I may enjoy so much, ahm, how to say...I love Glorfindel but we are very familiar to each other. Now I love Mae, my love will grow for you, and I barely know what to do with that,” he grinned, eyes sparkling mischievously (and a little lecherously). “But...and I will never ask you to do something wholly contrary to your nature; if this is not you then it is not you...I really need some times where we come together and it is not about sex. I know you would not do this to me but...I was used that way...only wanted when the other person wanted to get off and…” Erestor stopped, realizing too late there was no agreeable way to phrase his request. “I am sorry,” he whispered. “I should not have brought this up.”

“Maybe this is a good time to bring up the thing I told you to stop talking about earlier.” Gildor squirmed a little. “It is no secret that I have been mostly faithless throughout my long life, but I also have very few ways to explain the, ah, miracle that occurred when Maedhros’ hand was restored. I am not saying I want to go cleanse my soul right now and pledge myself to a religious sect, but it is something that is lacking in my education. I grew up on the ice, and there was no room for God there.” Gildor returned to rubbing Erestor’s back. “I really admire what you have done--you have gone beyond the use of the scarf as a way to make a statement of humility, which is really what the Vanyar have done for a long time. You are making your own custom, in a way.”

“If you are asking me to help you or explain in some manner large or small, the answer is Yes, and, thank you. I do not know if...imagine if Maedhros believed he would not have the courage or inner fortitude to stay the course of refusing alcohol but it was critically important to him that he succeed at that. And as an extreme check on any risk of failure he walked around with a sign that declared ‘do not serve alcohol for any reason’ to broadcast beyond any doubt the course on which he meant to stay. While not having lettering, the veil is exactly that for me; an outward sign I am wed and have this modesty toward my spouses; only those of my house may truly see my appearance.”

As soon as Erestor mentioned alcohol, Gildor flinched, but said nothing. He nodded, and fell silent. “Yeah...yeah,” he finally offered. “That is...really good. Very good.” Gildor stopped making eye contact. “Should we go back inside? We are going to need an extension on our assignments,” he tried to joke.

“As you wish but...you have had no release?” Erestor questioned.

“I came out here for you, not for me.” Gildor kissed Erestor. “Besides, I enjoyed what we did.”

Erestor’s lips parted; he flushed in deep embarrassment. “Now I really should not have brought that up. I need to apologize because it was a mistake and rude, though I know you tire of ‘I am sorrys’. You asked me out here to bestow a favor and my mind is so mired in how things have been under this roof that I could not imagine any other possibility. Appalling. I can see I have more to work on, now that there are new dynamics and persons to learn. I will give my best, Gildor. I do love you. I did not fuck this one up, but I did not know it was fucked up, and there was no one to be an unfucker anyway.” Erestor rubbed his eyes. “Fuck.”

“Honeybunny, it is not you. It is...honestly, not me, either.” Gildor bit his lip. He sat up slowly and picked up a stick. There was a spot on the ground near the stable where the grass did not grow in the shade. Gildor started to talk about the weather, and the crops, but as he was doing so, he wrote the following message in the dirt:

HE STILL DRINKS.

Then, he gave Erestor a sideways look while still analyzing the clouds.

Glancing down, at first Erestor frowned but not for long. For a moment he pondered, and cleared the first words. Then he wrote towards the top:

A LOT?

And further down

YES NO

The stick propped him back to his feet and was handed back to Gildor while Erestor sang an arpeggio on the word ‘unfucker’ to distract Gildor’s thought. That and because he liked the word. So sadly underutilized…

A circle was drawn around NO as Gildor moved on to discussions of the number of foals on the island that were likely the responsibility of Asfaloth, and added the following word underneath:

SNEAKY

Again Gildor’s work was obliterated, and Erestor drew the initials G, E, and M on a descending forty-five degree slope from left to right. Around these he framed a large heart, and smiled at his creation. It certainly was exceedingly Noldorin. Pulling Gildor near, Erestor set both hands atop his shoulders. “One more really good kiss, then inside?”

“...and if Asfaloth were...yes, please,” Gildor agreed. They did not stop at one good kiss, but shared several. Then Gildor retrieved the stick, added an F and another G inside the heart, and off to the side wrote:

DOES NOT KNOW I KNOW

This was smeared out of existence by Gildor’s foot. He shrugged, hugged Erestor, and motioned to the house. “Shall we?”

“I like seeing where your ideas lead,” Erestor mused, batting his eyelashes.


	16. Chapter 16

Erestor and Gildor made it back to the house just in time to help Edrahil, who had a pretty good idea that they had not been hard at work on their projects, make lunch for everyone. Findekáno had been in the kitchen, and there were some ingredients still out that turned the ‘what he was up to’ into a guessing game for Erestor and Gildor.

After lunch, Erestor and Gildor had to work that much harder to finish in time. The pair acted like delinquent students, whispering back and forth sheepishly as they worked, knowing that the others had spent a good deal more time at task. “Psst! What are you doing for Findekáno?” asked Gildor. He had finished a mobile of birds for Maedhros, and another of folded flowers for Glorfindel, followed by one of galloping horses for Erestor. Now he sorted through the colored paper on the table, but inspiration was nowhere to be found.

“I was going to ask you the same,” worried Erestor. He used the knowledge he had of woodcarving to create useful objects for each of the others. For Glorfindel, there was a whistle, for he knew that Fin had expressed his desire to be able to be heard in the same fashion as Maedhros. For Maedhros, a box for ink and quills with his sigil carved into the top, for most of Maedhros’ belongings were still on the mainland, and Erestor intended to retrieve a few feathers from the fowl outside to make basic quills so that Maedhros had his own things for writing. When the wood was procured, Gildor described a particular item he had in mind to be added to his toy collection, and, well, it still needed sanding and to be dipped in wax, but as long as Gildor knew not to try the phallus that was tucked under a cloth for mock modesty until it was ready, all would be well. Even Eruglar would have a gift--a small fleet of wooden boats to sail in the river or just display if he chose. “I tried to get a peek of what he is doing in the kitchen when I went to use the loo, but he chased me out.”

Gildor snorted.

“Wait. Can you do a peacock? Pea...bird? If I understand this right he is really a peahen but hens are even more extravagant than cocks in their society,” Erestor suggested. “Which helps you but not me. There is no way I could carve something so intricate in the time we have left. What he needs are personal accessories to aid him when he wishes to...you know, disappear his manliness, but I do not sew. How he goes about it now sounds like a nightmare in the waking world. He is very...alright, just had a possible inspiration but this requires expert level advice.”  _ Mae? Help? I am struggling for gift ideas for Káno. Just thought of making a hair accessory for Finya. Like a carven comb, kind of thing, the kind that keeps hair pulled back but is also a decoration. Good idea, shit idea, no idea? _

Maedhros peered over, set his writing aside, and came over to join the artisans. Gildor hastily hid the birds under the flowers. “You two are stuck on what to do for Findekáno?”

“Little bit,” admitted Gildor. “Erestor had an idea, but I used that partly for someone else already, so that seems like...a backup plan, I suppose. You know him better than we do.”

“Do I?” Maedhros sighed. “Why is it hard to think of things? Because unlike the typical Noldo, Findekáno is not a person of ‘things’. Look at what he has chosen to do--he is making food. Food is temporary, but it is the togetherness and the memory he is really creating. Findekáno likes experiences. It was never about the trophies he would win when competing, it was the winning and competing. Remembering a crowd cheering his name, standing at the center of the field, having his scores announced. He collects thoughts, not things.”

“You are right.” Erestor’s head dropped a little. That was really fairly obvious but he had never seen it in that light, and he knew why. He spent all his focus on what  _ not _ to do; what  _ to do _ often had a harder time gaining as much attention as it should. “I even made a list once of activities we could...now I do know what to do. I need only small slips of paper and something in which to contain them. Thank you for your guidance,” he smiled.

“Hey...can, uh...can I get in on this idea?” Gildor shamelessly asked. “Whatever it is sounds really good. Mostly because, my ideas are bad.”

Glorfindel had migrated over. “I have something for Finya,” he said tentatively, “but...is your idea for Findekáno?”

“It...here I will just explain to everyone. Fin, you recall the letters you found that I wrote to...Fingon...before I was poisoned. Among them was a list of things I wished to do with him, activities, all of which were chaste in nature because I understood his lack of needs and neither was I free to pursue him. Perhaps you saw it. If you did not, well, there was one. I am taking that idea and writing down each item from the list on a piece of paper, folded and placed in a jar. However often he or she will be invited to choose a paper and I will give whatever gift of my time and devotion is there. I do not believe any of them were gender relevant. I believe these are things anyone can do for anyone, if they are set to reflect the nature of the relationship between the persons in question. Gift jars.”

“Wish jars!” Gildor offered. “Oh! But what if you made a jar for Findekáno and a jar for Finya, because there might be some things you come up with that could be more specific. Oh! And what if we all had things, and we used different colored paper depending on who is offering. Oh! And the one for Finya could be paper in peacock colors, and the other ones could be...something else. Not that. His house colors, maybe? Do we have blue and grey or silver?”

Edrahil, who had been checking in on Findekáno, entered the room. “This looks like a conspiracy,” he joked in reference to all of them huddled at one table. “I came to let you know that you have a little more than an hour left. I am going to be leaving soon; Erestor, I leave you in charge,” he teased.

“Where are you going?” asked Gildor.

“I think it will be beneficial for all of you to have time to give each other your gifts, and there is some sort of jousting show thing that Felagund wanted to go to, so I am meeting up with him while Amarie finishes spoiling Eruglar with presents--although, does a grandmother ever stop spoiling?” wondered Edrahil.

“Some never start,” grumbled Maedhros.

Glorfindel was busy assembling what he needed to paint with watercolors. “I can make labels for the jars,” he offered.

"Absolutely. I have something I purposed differently, but it is clear to me they should be used for this. Pardon me for a moment." Leaving and returning before his absence could be discussed, Erestor had a bag in his possession; Maedhros recognized this as originating from the stationary shop. From this emerged several sheaves of note-sized paper in different colors corresponding to the gems of their rings of marriage plus a few extra in other shades.

"Oooh! I like my green," Gildor exclaimed, reaching for that color. Maedhros grabbed him into his lap, giving his bottom a gentle swat.

"Did no one teach you it is rude to grab, Inglorion?"

"Mmmmmm…..what did you say, Mae Mae?" he asked, wiggling his rear end.

"He asssssssked you," Glorfindel leaned in, sliding his hands to grab and squeeze both sides of Gildor's bottom, "if anyone taught you it is rude to grab." 

"I...are we talking about paper or asses? Because I feel that is a relevant detail," Gildor inquired.

Glorfindel looked up at Maedhros. "I tried but I am really out of form. If I was ever in form. I kind of doubt it, actually. I am really submissive." He shrugged and stole a kiss and a good grope on his retreat, grinning wolfishly.

Erestor covered his face to hide his giggles.

Edrahil nodded to himself. “My work here is done. I am just going to look in on Findekáno before I leave.” Edrahil went straight out to the kitchen.

"Since Gildor perceived the general concept, I am not sure I need explain," Erestor noted. "My original idea was that these would be color-coded for the recipient. So we could all leave nice notes for each other all over and if someone encountered one in their color they would know it to be meant for them. But I do not see why that cannot be tweaked."

“There is a lot of paper here--it could be both,” Maedhros said. “If that is the case, then, perhaps we use just Fingon’s color in the jars, and sign the slips of paper in the jars? Or...what if they had a symbol on them, to save space?”

“I like the different colors. Rainbow jars,” Gildor pouted. 

He and Maedhros both looked at Glorfindel for his input.

Glorfindel looked up and sighed. “I have never been able to refuse him,” he explained to Maedhros while glancing at Gildor in case there was any doubt who was meant. “It is not hard to paint colors on jars, either. There is a technique for changing the hue within a single color that is very attractive, I could do that for each jar. It would look very nice, like a rainbow of only one color. That...would that work for what you want, Gildor? Or do I misunderstand?”

“That also sounds good, but I meant the paper slips being different colors for different people. Because then, he knows and she knows who the person is, so that there is no accidental pulling of slips for someone who is out of the house, that sort of thing,” explained Gildor.

“I was not expecting logic from you,” admitted Maedhros.

Gildor stuck out his tongue.

Erestor shook his head. “You mean that you want the paper slips being different colors  _ from  _ different people, not  _ for  _ different people. Is that correct?” He waited on Gildor’s answer and now that Glorfindel also discerned the nuance, his eyebrows rose and he too stared at Gildor. Now he really wondered which version of Erestor Gildor had known in the Second Age but somehow he guessed it was not the scholarly one.

“Yes, that. Because when you write a letter to someone, you put their name on it, so your paper works for both sending things from someone and for the magic rainbow dream wish jars,” Gildor said. It was obvious he would continue to add adjectives and nouns to the name of the thing they were going to make for Findekáno.

Glorfindel hesitated. “What about Asfaloth? He is part of this family too.”

“He is,” agreed Gildor, “however, I think what Erestor has in mind for this is that it fulfills the ‘assignment’, and that this is something for lovers.”

“Oh…” Glorfindel’s cheeks began to burn. “Then that would, uh, not be a thing at all...uhm...can we forget I mentioned that? No one here being a mare, and all…”

Erestor’s brow raised.

“It sounded better in my mind,” Glorfindel said meekly, reddening more.

“You are beautiful and considerate and loving, Fin.” Erestor moved around to gather him up in a hug, rocking him. “Shame on me for teasing you. I should probably get a spanking,” he hinted.

An indescribable noise of frustration came out of Glorfindel as he reached around, managing to tip Erestor over enough to paddle a little at the side of his derriere while also tickling and head-butting him until he could not stop laughing.

“We should get to work, or we all get spankings,” declared Gildor. “Actually, that is only a threat to one person here.”

“Eh,” was all Maedhros said.

When Edrahil returned from the kitchen, he found the quartet hard at work on their joint project. “There is one more change of plans,” he informed them. "Felagund could not get the money he paid for rental of the rooms at the inn back, and it is a sizable suite. Amarië suggested that since we are paying for it anyhow, it might be good if we kept Eruglar by us for a few nights to allow the five of you a little time to settle in together, because as Felagund pointed out, some of you have recently taken very large steps in your relationships, and it is hard to have a honeymoon with a child running around.”

Erestor stared at Edrahil, then looked to Gildor. As Eruglar's father, this was of course his decision, but already his hand rested over his heart in thanks for what was being offered. "That is so very kind of you," Erestor said humbly, but no more.

“And before anyone says anything about it being an inconvenience, Amarië and Felagund are absolutely thrilled to have a grandchild to dote upon. As you know, they are not the type to ever push anyone to anything, but, they are really proud of what you have done in giving this boy a chance to thrive in a loving home, Inglorion.” Edrahil gave him a pat on the shoulder. Gildor smiled and shrugged, and whispered his thanks. Edrahil left soon after.

Glorfindel focused on Gildor. “I really am too. I did not want to say a bunch of stuff the day this was all being worked out because this had to be your decision, something you yourself deeply wanted and were committing to doing. But when you did, I loved you for it.” A hand brushed along Gildor’s cheek, followed by a kiss to the perfect skin, then another to the parted lips.

“What he said,” Erestor smiled, kissing several of his fingertips and blowing the kisses at Gildor in little puffs one after another.

\---

It was decided that although they were to have supper before the giving of gifts that they were all either too excited or too nervous to eat before everyone presented their assignments, and that they would simply put it off until after. Erestor moderated, just as Edrahil had suggested, and Gildor insisted upon going first with his paper mobiles. However, when he reached what seemed the conclusion after giving the hanging presents to Maedhros, Erestor, and Glorfindel, Gildor insisted that Findekáno wait until the end to receive his gift. Hesitantly, Findekáno nodded.

Erestor went next, handing the wooden presents to everyone--everyone except for Findekáno. Once again, it was insisted that Findekáno should wait until the end. Findekáno nodded with uncertainty.

It was Maedhros who offered to go next. He had a single envelope, from which he took a simple letter. “I know we were supposed to have something for each individual person, but I started to write and what I ended up with was a letter to my paternal grandfather--and his wife--which details specifically my involvement with and dedication to each of you, and also says, in a much nicer way, how they can kindly fuck off if they have problems with any of it. I intend to send it to them, but I might make a copy first, in case any of you wish in the future to read it again. Do you want me to read it aloud?”

“Yes,” Erestor said. “Would you allow me to sit with my legs over yours? And Káno, would you snuggle with me, maybe hold me while he reads it? I kind of want everyone near me. Something tells me I am about to feel very happy.”

“We should snuggle on the pillows,” suggested Gildor. He was already sliding down to the ground. Everyone else followed suit, and soon Maedhros, still towering over the others, but more so with some of them lying on their bellies and looking up with great expectations.

“Dear Grandfather and Lady Indis: I hope this letter finds you both in good health. I am writing to you from the island, though my vacation has become a relocation, at least for now. Gildor is with me, of course, and you know how dedicated I am to him. There have been changes beyond logistics for us, and while I will not have the expectation of acceptance, I hope you will consider blessing that which I am about to tell you, for I am blessed to be in the position I am in.

“Long have you known that my cousin holds a special place in my heart. My first love, my hero, my savior. He has been all this and more to me. My best friend and confidant. There was once a time when he was my world. It would be a sadder world were he not by my side in this one, and I am honored to inform you--though you may already know--that we have been wed, and what is more, have pledged through private union and bonded, as is right and true. This does not mean that Gildor holds any less of my heart, for is it not said that the heart is divided in quarters? And if that is so, can I not give a piece of my heart each to four very special people? Gildor is remarkably good at sharing, and jealousy is not strong in him. He, in fact, helped to plan the event, which is a memory I shall always hold dear.” Maedhros looked up for reactions so far. He saw that Findekáno’s mouth was covered and his eyes were glistening, so he set the letter aside and crawled closer to hold him for a moment, even with Erestor already doing so.

_ Káno –  _ Erestor held and kissed him.  _ This is why I never really understood on some level how I was blessed to have you at all. I always believed it would come around to this, somehow, some way because in my heart it had to. You were made for each other. I still do not understand what happened between he and I but I know what I want to believe. That the aspects of love he wants to direct at you but for which you are not ready and may never be ready; that I am blessed to have what you do not wish thereby aiding both of you. If I feel I am helping both of you, then I am truly rewarded and I know you both care for me. Glorfindel too, and Gildor. My long sense of feeling that I must be an outsider is healing and it began with you. That he returned to you, that Gildor made it possible; this has meant more than I can say. I love you to the stars and back, my husband. _

Findekáno clung to Erestor, and nodded to Maedhros to continue, for it seemed that was what Maedhros was waiting for. Maedhros leaned over and kissed Findekáno, then Erestor, before he returned to his letter.

“I wish now to address with you the matter of the treatment of my husband, Gildor. For many years, we have been subject to questions and queries, and listened to whispers behind closed doors. I want to make the following items clear. First, neither of us settled. That is a tragic misunderstanding that you both have--an opinion my grandmother does not hold. Gildor and I share a deep love for one another. He and I had been spending a lot of time together, unbeknownst to others, before we made the mutual decision to bond. No, we did not feel the need to have a huge gathering to officially exchange vows in public because quite honestly, so many embarrassing things have occurred in this family, and he and I did not want the extravagance and drama. As you know and remind us, Gildor’s parents chose to do the same, and I am tired of the accusation that somehow they did not raise him well enough to know how to get married ‘the right way’. The right way is the way that both parties feel is right in their heart, and privately was our desire. I would appreciate it if, when you refer to him, that you do so as my spouse and not ‘Finrod’s son’ or, far worse, ‘the black sheep of the family’. I have heard it slip from your lips more than once, and there is no reason for it. Everyone in this family is unique, and if anything should be used to describe him, perhaps it should be said that he is one of the most honest members of the family, as we should all be proud of that.

“Second, he has a ‘real job’. I am quite done keeping quiet when it is brought up that he is not an artisan or a crafter or a builder, and is not a scholar or a teacher or a writer. Being a traveling peddler is harder than any of those careers, and he does it for the good of the family. There are a lot of people who would not consider purchasing from us, but they do because Gildor can make that happen. He is a magnificent healer, and while he is looked down upon by some members of the family for choosing to be a healer of the mind instead of concentrating on physical ailments, I could not be prouder of his resolve. Unlike others, he does not do what he does for the prestige, or the wealth--he does what he does because he truly wishes to help people. Something you do not know about him is that even though he does not believe in the power of Eru and the Valar as some do, he still took travelers on pilgrimages in Middle-earth to places that they would not safely be able to reach on their own. There was no personal gain. He did it simply because it was the right thing to do. So few people now do things just because they should without deciding who they believe is worthy or not of aid, and this is just one of the many things I love about my husband.” Again, Maedhros paused for reaction, and was able to smile back at Gildor, who was grinning from the praise.

Glorfindel leaned over. “My hero,” he purred in silken tones.

Erestor stared at Gildor wonderingly, having known none of this. His heart felt very full on hearing it, proud and pleased just as he knew this had pleased Eru. A surge of emotion ran through him but he wanted to refrain from interrupting; they would have time to speak later, he hoped.

“Finally, I want to emphasize that this is my business. I never questioned your decisions as they pertained to life and love. I need you to stay out of my business. However, there is some business you probably do need to pay a little more attention to. 

“While everyone is focusing on Felagund and his line, no one is keeping any watch on the rest of Finarfin’s children. No one saw the developing prejudices, and no one has condoned the bad decisions made. There is a distancing that I have noticed has occurred between the two of you and Glorfindel. There is no acknowledgement of his relation to the family. It was only when he became involved with Findekáno that he was somewhat accepted to attend family gatherings, which were even then somewhat censored--that is, it would be suggested that attendance to a reunion be at the end of it, when other more ‘suitable’ members of the family had their chance to gather and frolic and leave so as not to be ‘subjected’ to the ‘eccentric’ behavior of Findekáno. Findekáno is not eccentric, nor is he to be treated as if he is somehow lesser or dumb in comparison to others, which seems to be the way I hear certain things explained off. If there are family members who have issues, then they can be the ones to modify plans or stay home. 

“Glorfindel is just about the sweetest person you will meet. He is kind, loyal, and fiercely protective. I have great respect for Uncle Finarfin--he was put in some very difficult positions over the years--but he put Felagund in the difficult position of trying to keep the rest of the family together, siblings who were focused on traveling to Middle-earth. It is mentioned from time to time that it is a shame that Felagund lost track of everyone, and a shame that he did not know what was going on, and a shame that Glorfindel ran away, and on and on--when the root of the problem, that being Finarfin’s decision to return to Valinor while all of his children ventured forth--is never discussed. There are many resolutions needed, and there are certain individuals whose perceived perfection means that you never find fault in their choices. I am not suggesting you scrutinize those you previously did not; I am asking you treat those you have judged with the same respect and acceptance you have offered others.”

Staring, Glorfindel was not making eye contact with anyone. All of this settled over him as familiar, yet never having been stated in such blunt terms. That frankness felt deeply unpleasant. He remembered the theater, and the words he shouted of which no one had ever been told.  _ All I ever wanted was to feel loved.  _ Well, he had love now, in abundance. It was never going to come from them. Did he even want it from people that had to be as good as slapped to even behave with decency? Was that even a question? Parts of the family were good, obviously. He lived with them or was wed to them, and there were some others, parents, cousins, and uncles. It was enough. Finally he turned to Maedhros and nodded with a smile that was really more a smirk. Honestly that was what that bunch deserved; he could not take them seriously anyway. What had they ever done for him? Naught, that is what.

Maedhros cleared his throat. “Finally, my last point is not a request. You may treat it as a demand, but it is just common courtesy. For as long as I can recall, you have both treated Erestor like dirt. I grew up calling him ‘uncle’ and having one of you say now and then ‘well, he is not  _ really _ your uncle’. I grew up asking why he was not at family gatherings and having you say it was not proper. When I finally asked why, I learned a word I do not like for people: hierarchy. You have always seen him as beneath you both; your treatment of him has been appalling. The sadder thing is, you were not the only ones who treated him thus, and I only wish I had been more mature at the time I observed these things, and stood up for the sweet and soulful man whose worth was in constant question, though his dedication to this family never has been. He served us as our educator, and he supported Artanis and saw to her every whim as best he could while working day and night to keep a farm operating when most other suitors would have walked away from a relationship she did not take seriously. He offered counsel to my father and more than that, and was rejected. He similarly advised Turgon, and fought for him, and was rewarded with the most brutal of unnecessary discipline--and yet, loyalty remained. Only Elrond seems to have provided him a real home and family during the years spent in service in Imladris--and yes, I will take credit for the decisions made by my son to consider Erestor family the way he should have been long ago. 

“So now, this is no longer a suggestion; no longer a request. I will not be idle when it comes to the wellbeing of my family. I have espoused Erestor, for we recently came to the realization that we are more and better joined, and we have great love and respect for one another. I will not tolerate injustice directed towards him--nor to any of the other members of my family. This has probably been uncomfortable to hear, but it has been uncomfortable for all of us to live. I love you both, and I want us to be part of this family, but I will fiercely protect my family first, and I will not allow for future discomfort. I do hope we will be welcomed, but we must be welcomed in full, not as second-class members of the family. Thank you for reading. All the best to you. Timo.”

Wide-eyed, Erestor leaned back a bit more in Káno’s arms to regard Maedhros better. A little tremor of...what was it, even? Excitement? Safety? ran down his spine at the steely determination in his husband’s bearing. So much confidence. Maybe once, he had more of this in him. It remained yet, but had to be provoked out of its den; much of his former resilience had been effaced so he was only too glad to feel protected by another and find this sense of security and being cared for. Káno and Fin gave him this too, but they were two arrows; Mae was more like a discharge of black powder. “You do know why your father rejected me, do you not? He was not given much of a choice. I did not find out until later but it made sense. It did not erase the pain, nor the consequence for me personally, but it did give him you and your brothers. I can never regret that outcome. Artanis...was something a little harder to forgive, though I know now we were not truly suited for each other. Indis told her that she could do better than me. Need I explain the bitterness of that? They took away my first real love, and I went away to be cured. I  _ was _ cured. I behaved as I was supposed to, so my reward was to be undermined behind my back. Have my relationships interfered with. What did it matter? As you said, Erestor was dirt.” Smiling weakly, he looked away. “Thank you, for what you wrote. It is the kindest thing anyone has ever said about me that I can recall but only because precious few know those things.” Leaning back, he grasped Káno’s arms tighter, not really wishing to remember but unable to simply forget.

Maedhros took his letter and went with it back to the table. There, he began to write, and he spoke the words as they were put down on the paper. “P.S. I was just informed that Galadriel was once told she could ‘do better’ than Erestor. I have no words. People are people, they are unique and beautiful, and people are not to be considered lesser in love because of their occupation or social status or monetary holdings or whatever it was that made you think he was not good enough. My father might not have the best relationship with you, Indis, but when he was asked by one of my brothers when we were children why it was that our grandfather felt he had to remarry, my father could have said a lot of mean things. All he said was ‘because grandpa loves her’, and that is all that should matter. I love Erestor, and I can guarantee to you that if you so much as suggest to me anything you said to Galadriel, you will not have to worry about my above requests because I will not wish to see either of you again.” Maedhros threw down the quill, then picked it up and checked it over to make sure it was not damaged. He left the letter to dry and came back to rejoin the others.

Erestor crawled toward Maedhros, asking by gesture to be held; at once the strong arms pulled him close and Erestor hid behind his silken hair, arms wrapped around his mate.  _ Just for a minute, I do not want to delay Findekáno having his gifts or the meal. I am very...not sure I know the right word. Taken aback, surprised, gratified, thankful, in your debt. None of those are quite right, all of them close. I love you and I feel very blessed that you wanted me. _

_ We are all blessed.  _ Maedhros reached out these words hoping to project to all of them as he cuddled Erestor. Findekáno walked over on his knees, and flopped down in a way so that he could be on his side and have an arm somewhat wrapped around Erestor, yet not entirely committed. 

Gildor surprised Glorfindel with a sudden hug. “I am very fortunate that Mae Mae indulged me for years and years, allowing me to bring so many men home for romps and playtime, but I will admit, there was an emptiness to it. Being here, all of us together, this feels so good.”

“I missed you,” Glorfindel said. “I know I keep saying that but it is true.” He returned the hug, determined to hang on. “And the beautiful creature you wed, of all the connections here ours is the least...well, connected. But he loves both you and Erestor and maybe he likes something else I like,” the blond mused.

“I do not necessarily think we will all directly bond to each other,” said Gildor. “In different ways, though, we will all be connected to one another.” He nudged Glorfindel. “Do you want to go next or should we ask Findekáno to present his assignment?”

“Glorfindel can go,” spoke up Findekáno quickly.

“Sweetheart, is everything alright with the food?” Erestor fretted. “Whatever it is I will like it, I am sure. You are so talented,” he praised.

“Oh...it should be fine. I just...I just want to go last,” insisted Findekáno.

“Alright,” Glorfindel acknowledged. “I wrote poems for each of you, with a framework for rhyme and meter of my own choosing. All I will say is, it is an atypical one. These were not easy for me because...well, I think other people are like this too? That we all have these things we believe we see in others, are part of how we view them, love them, but even when when we are very close we cannot always bring ourselves to speak those thoughts aloud to the other person because they have candor that says too much about ourselves. It is too much truth, so we keep it to ourselves. That was what I tried to do. If anyone here does not want what I wrote for them to be read aloud I will respect that; I did not think there was a requirement for everyone to see everything? Or is that not right? Ress?”

“I...er...do not actually know the answer to that. Uhm...Gildor, help?”

“If you do not want other people to hear Glorfindel’s private thoughts about you, raise your hand,” said Gildor.

There was a moment, and then Findekáno began to raise his hand, but lowered it back down. “Sorry...force of habit. I want to hear what you wrote. I...I think I am fine with others hearing, too.”

Maedhros took Findekáno’s hand and kissed it. “I may have peeked at a few lines for some of them. They are all lovely. I look forward to hearing you read them, Glorfindel.”

“But I hope I kept yours concealed, so that you have some surprise,” said Glorfindel.

“Ah, that is true,” admitted Maedhros. “I did not see that poem. But perhaps you might read first what you created for Findekáno--there were some lines in particular from that which are still rolling around in my mind. In a good way,” he said hastily.

Glorfindel retrieved the loose pages that held his thoughts and looked to Findekáno. “This first one I titled ‘In This Room’. I shall say no more and allow the poem to speak for itself.” And Glorfindel read:

  
  
  


**_Stopping again Our dance has gone still - what rules all your will?_ **

**_I cannot see what the birds do - they needed one glance to know you_ **

**_Fingon has gone, who is so withdrawn?_ **

**_Finya means a name and a hidden face._ **

**_Change means something unsafe to embrace._ **

**_Will you sit down in the tall chair and let her out to play?_ **

**_Or stay the same and die more with every passing day._ **

**_A blossom newly opened, yearning to be seen_ **

**_Will she walk out of of this room?_ **

**_But what if this and that?_ **

**_His favorite secrets, his favorite half-life,_ **

**_His favorite punishment, his favorite gaol._ **

**_In the room where Finya emerged_ **

**_Only love exists here. Will you let me really see you?_ **

**_Or will you hide away again? Your favorite puzzle_ **

**_Your favorite queer Your favorite genderblend Your favorite fear_ **

**_I’m hanging on your words, living every breath, feeling all your skin; I will always be here_ **

**_In this room, golden eyes flicker anxiously_ **

**_Your true beauty always lived inside._ **

**_May you accept yourselves tranquilly,_ **

**_Finya no longer needs to hide._ **

**_Will you give me your hand? Will you dance with me?_ **

Glorfindel finally looked up to see the reaction from Findekáno. His expression was almost unreadable, and Glorfindel was thankful when Findekáno said, “That is a lot of truth. Your words are beautiful. I...am speechless, because...you know me so well. Maybe better than I know myself.”

“Do you like it?” asked Glorfindel nervously.

“Very much so. Thank you.” Findekáno scratched the back of his neck. “Dancing with you, yes, if that is a question you are asking--”

“It is,” Glorfindel said quickly.

“Yes. I enjoy dancing with you,” said Findekáno. “Finya...I have a lot to sort out there.”

“We all want you to know that we are here for you and support you,” cut in Erestor. “We love all of you.”

Findekáno gave a small smile. “Thank you,” was the soft reply.

Glorfindel shuffled the pages. “I have Erestor’s next.”

“I am excited,” admitted Erestor.

“I regret to inform you that it is only titled ‘Erestor, or, Ress’, and may well stay that way,” said Glorfindel.

“Perfect in case I ever forget my own name,” said Erestor with a wink.

Glorfindel chuckled and began to read.

**_You hid away from me_ **

**_But you did not hide well enough._ **

**_You left a trail of crumbs_ **

**_Signs of your pain, something amiss, though you acted tough._ **

**_An enigma for so very long but if you would not love me_ **

**_At least you were a true friend._ **

**_Until the day I found you captive,_ **

**_You said words unexpected but my solitude did not end._ **

**_Time passed and when I believed you unattainable suddenly all gave way._ **

**_You came to me and all my dreams came true; my passion spent in your body._ **

**_Erestor had bonded with me...or had he?_ **

**_Our time together lengthened, you showed me more and more, including what you meant to hide; how much you withheld._ **

**_I gave you my patience, always there was a promised word:_ **

**_Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow, can I count how often I heard?_ ** **_  
_ ** **_When exactly does the hope of change finally wither and die?_ **

**_Assured the door is forever sealed, I am justified to turn a blind eye._ **

**_It swiftly ended. He told me you were dead, now I could come alive!_ **

**_In the past I had thought you uncaring; I learned what uncaring was._ **

**_I felt you behaved selfishly until what the master of the house would contrive._ **

**_Some believed you abused me! That was totally wrong because,_ **

**_To fear the next rape, emasculation for saying or doing the wrong thing_ **

**_The bitter fruit of allowing my seduction away from you_ **

**_I knew better, Ress, for I wore your ring._ **

**_He took my freedom, all that I knew; in the end I was lost and believed it my due._ **

Glorfindel paused now, and spoke in an ordinary fashion though he glanced at notes from time to time. “I had an accident. I knew my circumstances were very bad, and I expected to return to Námo. I promised I would not agitate to leave soon like before, but accept my fate. Then Finrod was there. And my father. Then Gildor and Mae. The unimaginable happened; Erestor gave me another chance and Findekáno wished to accept me into their home as well. Time went by and still something was missing from what happened during that time, though in between my love for Káno and Erestor has grown. But then this marriage happened, and the days that followed. Because the day of my accident, wanting to die, I told Finrod I had no future. He corrected me and told me I did have a future whether I believed it or not because I would be drawing close...to Gildor. He had seen it.

“Ress, our path has been long, and for me filled with difficulty but also love. You have been the long thread of my entire life and I would live it again without hesitation to walk at your side. I see all this now from its beginning and I believe this was Eru’s will for me. You did not act ever from a place of malice; I understand that now. It was you that taught me of Our Father. I do not know if this is a poem, a letter, or fragments of my thought that you may never have known.”

“That is far too kind of a description for the level of asshole I was to you.” It was his turn to drag Glorfindel into a hug and bestow kisses. “I think I knew some of that. Other of that I did not...but could have if I were not so determined to block out what I was really doing – respond to the conditioning from the clinic – and face my behavior and consider your feelings. I am sorry. I will always be sorry. But...I feel the same as you, though I would have liked to have avoided the pain. Eru must have wanted to teach us something. Were I to guess...people who suffer can have empathy for, have compassion for others who have suffered. Maybe Eru will want us to do something for him? I think I am already being asked, not so subtly, by our new friends. We will figure it out and in the meantime I am wed to...what was it they told me? The most perfect cheekbones they have ever seen.” Erestor kissed each of them eagerly. “My sunshine. But I will not hog you so we can hear...mmm I do not know which I am more curious about, Gildor’s or Maedhros’”

“Me! Me next!” shouted Gildor. “That is...if that is...sorry, I really want to hear mine next,” Gildor declared.

“Go ahead,” said Maedhros to Glorfindel as he kissed the top of Erestor’s head when he snuggled back to join Maedhros and Findekáno. “I can wait.”

Glorfindel nodded and shuffled the papers. Then he smirked, and started to read:

  
  


**_There once was a lad from Nargothrond_ **

**_He was wild and witty and very blond_ **

**_He asked about taxes_ **

**_Made jokes about asses_ **

**_Of the Golden Flower Lord, he was very fond_ **

**_One night on a journey together_ **

**_They enjoyed some very nice weather_ **

**_He gave me a shock_ **

**_When he sucked on my cock_ **

**_And touched a region quite nether_ **

**_So now and again in Gondolin_ **

**_This sassy young rogue would wander in_ **

**_He’d get past the walls_ **

**_Then come fondle my balls_ **

**_A future, he had me ponderin’_ **

**_A day came that really changed my life_ **

**_I thought it important to take a wife_ **

**_My lesbian lover_ **

**_Who became my son’s mother_ **

**_What followed were war, tears, and strife_ **

**_Then all of it ended when I crashed and burned_ **

**_Yet I was persistent and soon returned_ **

**_Would my sweetheart be there?_ **

**_And would he still care?_ **

**_The answer to both was ‘yes’, soon I learned_ **

Glorfindel looked up with a grin. “I switched to a different type of rhyming for the rest. Rebirth, new life, it seemed...well, let me continue, then,” he offered. His cheeks were slightly flushed, especially with Gildor giddily bouncing a little while on his knees, and sometimes clapping certain phrases. Findekáno and Erestor were still snuggled in Maedhros’ arms, but Erestor was looking up with a wistful look, and Maedhros glanced down with a wink that seemed to say, sure, we can try some of the things in this poem. Glorfindel began to read again.

**_Flamboyant peacock wildcat_ **

**_Sometimes he is a little brat_ **

**_He preens his many colored hair_ **

**_In hopes a lovely to ensnare._ **

**_First he enjoys to suck some dick_ **

**_Not too thin nor stubby nor thick_ **

**_Wait! You surely speak of another_ **

**_Gildor loves cock like no other!_ **

**_Next are so many roads to travel_ **

**_No need to have your knees in the gravel!_ **

**_Perhaps excitement? Dexterous fingers?_ **

**_Beg for some more when those digits linger?_ **

**_Wait until he uses the lubrication_ **

**_And you plead with him in total frustration._ **

**_He strokes to elation, quite past flirtation_ **

**_You would praise with oration but_ **

**_His lips have silenced your cries and_ **

**_A knock falls heavily on the door below_ **

**_BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM_ **

**_With unrestrained desperation, bucks against that tight leg_ **

**_Pushes down on those blessed fingers._ **

**_“Have to get that,” the wildcat mentions_ **

**_Soap water lather scrub towel toss button arrange_ **

**_Someone consented, leather restraints_ **

**_‘Tis not Gildor! No time for complaints._ **

**_“Uh, be right back!” the cheerful rejoinder._ **

**_Whose cock is erect, aimed like a pointer?_ **

**_Glorfindel tries and sometimes does fail._ **

**_He wonders how Gildor would conclude this tail?_ **

Shrugging, the blond smiled at Gildor and with complete nonchalance sighed. “I tried but I ran out of time and I could not finish this last one. So I was pathetic and did that. I know you never run out of ideas, love.” Only for the tiniest moment did his expression alter to gleeful savagery before returning to normal.

“I fear your poem is not very long,” Glorfindel said apologetically.

Maedhros smiled. “I am sure I shall love it, for you made it for me.”

Glorfindel smiled back. No wonder Elrond had turned out as he had, he mused privately. Glorfindel spent far more time than needed switching the papers and clearing his throat, but finally convinced himself to read the final poem:

**_You are unmasked and revealed_ **

**_yet I know you the least_ **

**_You are unafraid and a shield_ **

**_yet you cowered to a priest_ **

**_Within you is such good and light_ **

**_Soul tarnished from your shadowed past_ **

**_If you wish to shine so bright_ **

**_We can guide you--you need only ask_ **

**_Comfort to all is found in your arms_ **

**_Guardian of hearts; protector from harms_ **

**_Bonded now to every other_ **

**_Do I call you brother or lover?_ **

Glorfindel looked up shyly.

Maedhros was blushing.

Findekáno patted Maedhros on the cheek, then kissed it, and slid away. Erestor, with a cheeky grin, did the same. Maedhros now reacted, arms wide open--a clear invitation, further made known as Gildor nudged Glorfindel’s shoulder and whispered, “Your future love awaits you.”

A shiver ran through Glorfindel, and he crawled forward, handing the sheets off to Gildor, who took them to the table for safe keeping. The embrace from Maedhros was a wave of warmth over Glorfindel, who snuggled against this man, seemingly twice his size.

“Do you need help bringing out your assignment?” Gildor asked Findekáno.

“Uh...no. Umm...let me go get them.” Findekáno hesitated a moment, but then pulled himself up and stepped over the pillows so that he could go to the kitchen.

“He is getting suspicious about whatever we have planned for him,” Maedhros informed the others.

“We have planned for  _ him _ ? He is the one that has...he is not a normal cook,” Erestor protested. “Káno is supercook. I am worried he is going to come out of there with things I cannot pronounce and will eat wrong because I am an uncultured savage.”

“He will forgive us,” Gildor assured Erestor. “I hope.”

When Findekáno returned, he had the tea cart with him. There were things on it, but what those things remained unseen, for there were different colored cloths covering what appeared to be jars and trays. “I want to prepare you upfront that I did not have much time to prepare all of this, and also, I experimented, so if these did not turn out very good, I did make a plain, normal chocolate cake with chocolate frosting. Oh, and also, I made supper while I was doing the rest of this, so there is a root vegetable stew and bread that I put back near the fire to warm again, and butter, of course, and small meat pies for those who want that, and an herb salad with edible flowers because there is a greenhouse and I just...it happened,” he said almost apologetically.

“You are silly in an absolutely adorable way,” Gildor said.

“Adorable just plain adorable,” Glorfindel added. “Sweetheart, who is here? Finya? In between? I do not want to use the wrong – I would like to ask you what you would like for pronouns? But first I want to express how much appreciation I have that you feed us a lot of the time. It means many things to me and Glorfindel does not want to hog the conversation saying them all right now but thank you, so much.”

Findekáno fiddled with the handle of the cart. “It is hard to explain.” He came around and abandoned the cart to rejoin them on the pillows. “It is not something where someone just...goes away, but...more that...shit.” Findekáno flopped onto his back, looking much as if he was going to make snowmaia the way he was spread eagle on the cushions. He closed his eyes. “You know how, when you listen to a symphony, all of the instruments are there, but sometimes certain instruments play louder, and you hear them up front, but the other instruments are still in the background?”

“Yes,” Erestor agreed. “Some carry the theme, but the others are playing harmonies, or variations or such like but it is natural to have one’s focus drawn more to one over all the others.”

“That is...me.” Findekáno lifted his arms and pretended to conduct an orchestra. “The rise and fall, as different voices ease in and out of my personal narrative. That is the best way I can explain. When we tried yesterday to go out, I never told you exactly what happened in the carriage and why I asked you for help, Gildor.”

“I was hoping to learn about that,” Glorfindel said gently, moving to be near him

Findekáno dropped his arms back down over his head. “We were probably ten minutes from the house. I was already getting nervous, because everyone was expecting and anticipating Finya. I tried. I tried so hard. Our friends started to talk about getting me ready in the carriage, doing something different with my hair, and putting on makeup, and I just...I could not find my voice. I wanted to stop them, and tell them Finya was not there, not in the sense of what one would perceive as there...she was, she is, but not...singing the lead. It was just me. But I did not want to disappoint. I tried to talk myself into it. I tried to tell myself, it was just a few hours.”

Findekáno scratched his arm and then his ear. “I felt sick to my stomach. I just wanted it to be over. I started to think about, what happens if I cross paths with some of the students, or Quennar, or the Headmaster? Or family, still on the island? My parents are still around somewhere, so are Maedhros’ parents--so are my kids. I panicked, but I still could not find my voice.” His head turned to the side, eyes fluttered open. “So, Astaldo.”

“Ahhh.” Maedhros tightened his hold on Glorfindel. “Did...hmm. I do not know if I should ask, but I shall. Did you harm yourself?”

Findekáno took a deep breath. “A little. It was more...flailing and yelling and not being proud of my behavior later, and an awful lot of crying on our way back, because once we were turned around, Astaldo could go away, and it was just me, embarrassed and hurting and scared. I was so certain they would never want me around again. No more friends, no more Peacock. We got back, and Ninquitar went inside, and Manyanar sat in the carriage with me until I mostly stopped crying. And he said, ‘you are a hell of a lot worse than either of us guessed’, and that just made me cry again. And we just…we stayed in there, and he said, no one was going to abandon me, but I needed to learn how to control...whatever this is. And, um...I felt so bad, to have Astaren there, watching, but...it was just bad.” He paused. “Manyanar eventually told Astaren to go inside, and when I was alone with Manyanar, he told me he was going to give me the name of the person he works with, and that he would send a letter, and get us acquainted, and pushed that I go to the mainland, because...because he did not know if it was a good idea for me to be near the two little ones, if this happened, which, I cannot fault anyone for saying that. And he wrote down the name and address, and I looked at it and I laughed through the tears. Because it was Edrahil. Then Manayar emphasized how bad this is, and he knows a lot of people and...it hurt to have someone look at me and tell me I am unstable and mentally unwell, and...it hurt more to think about what I put all of you through, and what I have done to myself for so long…” Findekáno sniffled, and wiped his eyes. “I just...I want to get better, but...Manyanar talked about using something to...to keep me calm, and...I-I-I want to get better, but not like that, but...it just seems like I have no other choices left.”

Glorfindel took both of his hands. “Káno, I want you to listen to me. There are those under this roof who have used drugs under the supervision of healers, as medicine. There are those under this roof who have used substances according to their own initiative, and formed dependencies on them. This is hardly a secret. Using a drug as a medication does not mean that a person will end up with an addiction. Some things have to happen for that to take place. The first one is to knowingly use them without the oversight of a Healer for a specific purpose. I do not refuse to use medications for physical pain or emotional difficulty; you saw that I accepted what Edrahil offered. With me having told you my perspective, would you please tell me what you mean by, ‘i want to get better but not like that’?”

Giving a squeeze to Glorfindel’s hands, Findekáno said, “It makes me feel weak to have to admit I need them. Probably need--might need them.”

“You need them,” said Maedhros firmly under his breath.

Findekáno let out an audible sigh. “They change things.”

“That is the point,” spoke up Maedhros, a little louder.

“They...dull things. I lose the symphony. It leaves...just...me. Astaldo disappears, yes, but...Finya and the others are too faint, too. I do not want to lose myself trying to find myself,” said Findekáno. “This stuff Edrahil brought...I tried it...it...just leaves me.”

“Leaves you what, love?” Glorfindel asked, unclear. “Oh! Wait. You mean, it only leaves  _ you _ . As in, one. You only. Please pardon me, I am trying to gain a perspective that is unfamiliar for me. I could see how the shift would be disconcerting. But I also wish to point out, the effects were very temporary, and the reason for its use was to control your anxiety enough to permit you to function. To speak without your emotions paralyzing you. I feel sure there are ways to learn to reduce anxiety that do not involve medicine, but I also feel the medicine is not unreasonable as a temporary measure with anxiety this severe. For some time, love, your anxiety has managed you, not the other way around. It has hurt me to see your struggle, when you comforted me and patiently reassured me through the same problems. But when it was my turn nothing I did helped you. Every step I took…” he shook his head and snorted. “Faelion. It is absurd enough to be completely surreal.”

“Káno--this is the most clarity you have had in a long time. Some of the things you have said remind me of conversations we had before the exodus,” said Maedhros. “You said earlier that you want to get better. Not everyone, eh, practically no one says ‘yay, medicine!’ when they are sick or ‘yay, treatment!’ when they are unwell or injured. We need to treat the cause, but that is going to take time. So in the meantime, we treat the symptom. Does that make sense? The goal is not for this to be permanent. I think, though, that you need to share all of this with Edrahil.”

“He came and spoke to me before he left. He said things similar to what you just said,” Findekáno mumbled.

“Hmm. Must be because I am married to a mind healer. Might have picked up a few things from him.” Maedhros winked at Gildor.

“Honey, there are also different doses and different treatments,” Gildor said. “You took a LOT of whatever this is, which, I admit, I was like, mmmm, do not mind if I do...except, no, I do not need it, and that would be wrong of me to go down that path again, knowing the problems of addiction. For you, though, I think we need to explore options. The fact that you can even say the things you are saying right now is pretty incredible.”

Erestor now came. “I could speak too. But I only will if you truly desire that of me. I love you and I support you but I also know that part of supporting you is not wearing you down until you agree so that we stop talking at you when that is not what you want in your heart. There is also discussing this more later. We are going to keep you to your agreement to seek help, but Gondolin was not built in a day.”

“Fucking Gondo--can I...I just--”

“Yes.” Maedhros encouraged. “Go on. Get it out.”

Findekáno sat up, which pulled Glorfindel slightly closer. Findekáno scratched his head. “Why the fuck is it that my brother, he just goes off, takes our sister with him, overtakes--in a friendly manner--a Sindar stronghold, then leaves that and creates a secret city, tells very few where he even is, pretends as if the rest of us barely exist--meanwhile, I am trying to help our father with everything, keep everything running, be diplomatic, no time for me to do anything like that, not that I wanted to--but showing complete loyalty...mostly...everywhere it mattered, I would argue--and why is it that I still hear my grandparents talk about what a shame it is that he was born just after me instead of the other way around. What the hell makes him so God-damned fucking special?!” His chest was heaving by the time he ended. He glanced at Glorfindel and added quietly, “Sorry, I know you served him.”

“You feel better?” asked Maedhros.

“A little,” said Findekáno.

“I did not think highly of Turgon once the persecutions began. When he forced me to whip Erestor brutally. I still become ill every time I think of that so I am never going to be able to think he is anything more than a monster for that alone. He never apologized. There are things a king must do but that was not one of them. It was cruel and disgusting,” Glorfindel said. “So there is your ‘fucking special’.” 

“I never understood the floggings,” Findekáno said. He shook his head. For a moment, he and Maedhros locked gazes.

“Have you...ever told them...about…” Maedhros slowed his words and watched Findekáno for a change in expression. Findekáno shook his head. “I mean…”

“It just really never surfaced. Storytime?” asked Findekáno.

“I think you should,” Maedhros said.

“This is the thing about the executions, right?” asked Gildor.

Findekáno played with his hair, pulling it back on either side as he spoke. “Not long after the disappearance of Aredhel, my father seemed to have this thought that there was some deeper conspiracy, and it had roots outside of Gondolin--basically, that all of this was some sort of hostage or kidnapping situation, and there would be a ransom, and he was going to sort it out before that happened. However it was that he gathered his sources, he came up with this list of people who were allegedly involved. Now, none of these people were pure by any measure, but when nothing came out about the suspected hostage situation, he was embarrassed, but still certain they were all guilty of something--which, yes, probably, some of them definitely. HIs solution was to execute them.”

“What!?” Erestor choked, horrified. How he had not made the list seemed a miracle.

“It gets better. Or, worse, depending,” said Gildor.

Findekáno cleared his throat. He was trembling just slightly as the memories came back. “Two nights before the executions were to take place, some of the soldiers most loyal to my father planned a jailbreak. All of the people who were to be executed, and their families so that no retaliation could occur, escaped. When my father learned of it the next day, he declared that whomever it was who did this would be publicly flogged, if they came forward before midnight. If not, when he found them, they would be executed.” Findekáno got up, stepping over the cushions, and started to pace. “My father was investigating, but so was I. I was trying to buy time, to calm him down, to get him to see that his idea was never a good one to begin with. When I found out just how many there were, I knew he stood to start a civil war if he went after so many of the captains of his guard. So...in the throne room, just before midnight, I came to him with a whip. And I held it out to him and I said, ‘Do you want to do this here or outside?’. He stared at me, of course, and told me he did not believe it was me, but I refused to stand down. I guess he decided, if he was not going to have his conspirators to punish, he would take me instead. And he did.” Findekáno looked at the empty doorway. “He told me to go out to the courtyard, and I did. He ordered two of the guards, two who were guilty of the deed, to strip me down and tie me to a post that had always served as a warning, but was never used. And he had a bell rung, and demanded people come to watch. And he whipped me, in front of everyone. To this day, I have no idea where he and Turgon got it from.” Findekáno looked back to the others. “And he never apologized, either. He seemed to think he was...making the people loyal to him, doing what he did. What they will not tell you in history books is that, if they were so loyal, why did he ride alone to face Morgoth? He did it because no one else would follow. From that day on, that night he whipped me, the people were not loyal to him. They were loyal to me. In name, in title, I was only King for a handful of years, but he was not their King after what he did to me.” His gaze fell upon Erestor, and there was an understanding. All the times Findekáno had come into Erestor’s dreams to chase off that recurring nightmare of Salgant and Duilin laughing while the whip struck him, all the nights he was held when the phantom pain from those moments returned.

Findekáno understood, because Findekáno understood.

“You have not answered my question, love,” Erestor said. “Yet I think in a way you have, about whether you would want to hear my opinion about your treatments. You have just spoken about the kind of strength you do possess, and yet it feels perhaps like it has abandoned you. Strength and anxiety do not operate on the same planes, exactly. I agree with Gildor. You have slowly lost objectivity concerning yourself. If you believe you can trust us, and Edrahil and Ninquitar and Manyanar, Élarminë too, then allow us to guide you and trust that we will not lead you astray or cause the things you fear to lose to become lost. You have cared for all of us. I know I would gladly in turn care for you. I want to.”

“There is an epilogue to that tale, which Findekáno may find hard to share because he lacks memory of much of it, so I can recount it,” said Maedhros. “When I next visited after the affair, I was told by Fingolfin that Findekáno was injured and could not be seen. Well, of course, even then, many of the people were easing their loyalty in Findekáno’s direction, and it was not long before I was secretly shown to where Findekáno was. You see, in order to address the many wounds made--for Fingolfin is strong, and he was angered when he struck, and he whipped Findekáno brutally--the healers administered something to keep Findekáno sedated. As he was recovering, Fingolfin found it advantageous to have his very vocal son, who was beginning to speak against him more and more, and whom he sometimes saw as an embarrassment, in a state where he was unable to disagree. So he ordered the continuation of the drugs, until I arrived and I threatened to void all trade and travel agreements and to denounce him as king. He did not like that idea, and so he complied with my...request. I see where your concerns are, Findekáno, but what your father did and what we are trying to do are two different things, and what your father used and what we are suggesting and what Edrahil will allow are two different things.”

“I know,” whispered Findekáno in a small voice.

“Will you join us again in the circle? Please?” Maedhros held out a hand.

Findekáno came back onto the pile of cushions, though he went to Erestor. “When you were beyond the ability to make decisions, I made them for you, taking care of you, and...doing whatever I could. Even though I can walk and talk and eat, I think some might argue I am...beyond the ability to make  _ rational  _ decisions.” He took Erestor’s hands. “Just as I made a pledge to Gildor to get help, I make a pledge to you. Guide me. Spiritually, medically...I cannot say I will not be wary, but Eres, if you say to me, ‘Káno, I have decided this must be done, and it is for the best’, I will obey.”

With a sudden gasp, Maedhros looked upwards. “Thank you,” he whispered to the ceiling. “Thank you.” Overwhelmed emotionally, he then clung to Glorfindel.

Gildor explained. “He has been silently praying for something like this all day. He, uhm...he never really prays, so…” Gildor crawled over and hugged Maedhros and Glorfindel.

“I have not forgotten, and my gratitude is still endless,” Erestor said, enfolding him into a warm embrace. “I am saddened and horrified to learn of what your father did, though, I now at least see that your brother is the apple fallen off the tree. I thank Eru you were a superior fruit – but back to what you have said, I accept what you are asking of me, which is a temporary conservatorship. I will carefully and prayerfully do my best. With your consent, concerning the medical aspects, I would ask Elrond’s opinion as well for my own informing, if you are comfortable with that since obviously I will have Gildor to inform me as well. I am honored to do this for you, Findekáno. So you know, this is the path of true courage, and you have my deepest admiration.”

“I think Elrond is very knowledgeable, and he obviously knows a lot from his examinations of me,” said Findekáno. “I more than consent to that. I...I need help. This is going to sound stupid, but it is easier to allow these things now that I can admit something is wrong.”

“I understand that feeling very well,” Erestor soothed. “I will ensure you have what is necessary but not without compassion and not in a way that causes you fear. I cannot envision a scenario in which we will not be able to talk, or if you truly are in a place beyond reason, I will take pains to reassure you. I will never abuse your trust. If something...if for some reason you did go to the mainland and I needed to remain here because of my employment I would hope that Edrahil would be available. Do not forget that I can reach you across any distance, love. Though I have never had a need to remain open to someone when apart, I would find a means. You will not be left alone.”

Findekáno’s gaze darted about. “I was...hoping not to be alone much anymore? I thought I could...go with other people, they really seem nice, to go shopping, but...I need...I need you. All of you, one of you...I need someone with me. I keep self-exiling myself in rooms or outdoors, and in reality I want someone there with me. That must seem awfully needy.”

“I think I speak for everyone in saying we will do whatever we can to fulfill that need. It is a relatively small thing to ask,” said Maedhros.

“How easily you forget where I have been,” Glorfindel chastened him mildly. “I was as bad or worse, Káno. Maybe...I did not have the problems you and Erestor suffered, I know that. Sometimes I think I should have managed to be stronger because look what the both of you held up under before you broke...but I am blessed with Gildor’s calm voice in my mind calling bullshit on all of that – which I know it to be – and I sigh and move on. The thoughts are still there but they are losing their ability to affect me. But where you are now? There is only fear, pain. Sometimes even terror. You would not allow the lowliest creature to suffer what you are trying to endure. Neither will we. It is not ‘awfully needy,’ it is what is and you will not run yourself down when you were my anchor during the same storm.”

Findekáno’s next words were defensive. “I am not broken. I never broke.”

“Right--and that is the problem,” Maedhros dared say. “Every time there was a crack, you just tried to wrap a bandage over it, conceal it with a touchup of paint, smeared glue on the outside when you need to take the pieces apart to glue it back together. All of these layers, these bandages, these temporary solutions to keep yourself together--they have to go. They do, Káno. You need to bare your wounds and scars, and let them be cleansed and properly cared for. You do not go from here back up on a path of everything getting progressively and quickly better. You stop lying to yourself--and us--that everything is fine, and you cleanse the fire of your soul with tears, and you rise up out of the ashes as the phoenix you will become. So, no, you are right, you have not quite broken, but if you keep this up the pieces that remain will be so small there will be little hope of putting them back together. Give yourself permission to completely fall apart now so that we have a fighting chance of putting you back together again.”

“Maedhros is not wrong,” chimed in Gildor. “I would much rather the nursery tale go ‘Findekáno sat on a wall, Findekáno had a great fall. The King’s white horse and all his men, managed to put him together again.”

Findekáno chewed his lip. “That feels like a horrible idea, and I am not exactly sure how one just ‘breaks’ on their own accord.”

Erestor sighed. “If that is what you are willing to find out, I do. You are not quite expressing it right. One does not break on their own accord; one gives up. Stops the fight. One says to that great pressure fought off every day, ‘You win.’ There is more, but at its core, that is the cornerstone.”

“What are the elements of your life that make you think you are not broken?” asked Gildor gently.

For a moment, Findekáno considered the question. “Well, the biggest thing is that I can hold down a job. I can still make it to work, do what I need to do, and get things done.”

Maedhros maneuvered Glorfindel from his lap and got up. As the tall redhead went to the table, Findekáno asked what he was doing, but Maedhros did not reply. He sat down, and very loudly as he wrote, Maedhros announced, “I, Findekáno Fingolfinion, do hereby resign my position effective immediately.” He then brought the letter back to a stunned Findekáno, complete with a quill, ink, and one of the tabletop easels to use as a surface. “You are not really fit to hold a job right now. Sign it.”

Findekáno stared at the letter. “I do think I want--”

“Erestor? What do you want him to do?” Maedhros’ expression was stoic.

The golden eyes widened, blinked, and looked to Erestor.

“Love, Maedhros is right. You must focus on healing. It is a much greater task than you can perceive. Please sign the resignation, and speaking on behalf of Glorfindel as well I am so thankful of the care you provided as head of our household. I love you. I will always be grateful for the sacrifices you made. For now, this is something that is beyond you. You need to give it up.”

“But I...I can m-manage it. Part...part time? I want to work,” Findekáno practically pleaded.

Maedhros slowly shook his head. “No.” He lowered himself down beside Findekáno and held the easel with one hand while he used the other to form Findekáno’s fingers around the quill. “Sign it.”

Findekáno looked desperately to Glorfindel and Gildor for support, but neither spoke up. Resignedly, Findekáno’s hand shook, but he scrawled his signature upon the page.

“What else?” asked Maedhros, voice still firm, but he kissed the side of Findekáno’s head.

“I really do not want to tell you,” admitted Findekáno, tears beginning to trickle. “You are just going to take everything away.”

Maedhros did not deny this. “What else,” he coaxed as he brushed back the dark strands that had fallen in front of Findekáno’s face.

“The...the Gymnastics Council.” Findekáno pinched the bridge of his nose as Maedhros stood to retrieve more paper. “I would...I would like to continue to serve as part of the directorial board,” he called out.

Another letter was brought back to him. Findekáno sighed and did not argue this time when told to add his signature to the document.

“Keep going,” said Maedhros.

Findekáno rolled the quill between his fingers. “I suppose the gymnastics. The equipment. Getting to practice.”

Maedhros smoothed back Findekáno’s hair, then looked up at Erestor. “Do you know anyone on the island who can come and get the equipment? Maybe a school or a gym?”

“All of it, though? Can you at least leave me with something? Maybe the trampoline,” Findekáno tried to negotiate, recalling Gildor’s fascination with it. 

Still petting Findekáno’s head, Maedhros shook his head. “No,” he whispered. “You know that Elrond told you that you should not be doing any of that at your age.”

Openly crying now, Findekáno, instead of leaving, as was so often his resolution, wound his arms around Maedhros and clung to him as he wept. 

Maedhros closed his eyes and focused on Erestor.  _ This is probably the hardest thing I have had to do, and the most painful, for both of us--and that includes losing a hand. I have to take it all away for him to find himself again. You might have to help me if I falter. It is so hard for me to tell him no. _

_ I am sorry, Maedhros. You are doing the right thing. This does not all have to fall upon you. We look to you to take the lead because you know him best but it is not your place to bear the burden of what is unpleasant. I believe you have said enough, and I thank you for saying it. _

_ I can see this through for now, but I will tell you if I need you to step in. Unlike him, I know my limits--which is why I know to warn you now rather than when I am drowning with a league of water over my head.  _ “Any thoughts on where the equipment could go, Erestor? Or Glorfindel? You know the island better than Gildor or I.”

“Yes,” Glorfindel said evenly. “There is an academy for youth dance and gymnastic training; it is meant to teach early strength and flexibility so that students who show desire and aptitude can decide to go on to training on the mainland if they wish. There is also a recreational component; in the evenings it is used for adult exercise and classes. It really is a good concept and I am sure this would be valuable to them.”

“See? You will be making a community impact--I assume Glorfindel and Erestor can make the necessary arrangements.” Maedhros used his sleeve to wipe away some of Findekáno’s tears. “Tell me more--what else makes you feel unbroken?”

Even more hesitant this time, Findekáno finally said, “The relationships with my children and grandchildren.”

“I think we can all agree that those are necessary,” said Maedhros softly. “However, for now, it should be limited to written correspondence.”

“But they are--all of them are still on the island! I barely--” A frustrated noise left Findekáno. “I really want to see them before they go back home.”

“Do you really want them to see you like this?”

Findekáno sniffled. “No,” he eventually said.

“No,” Maedhros agreed. He kissed Findekáno’s brow. “Write to them. You know they will write to you. When Erestor deems it possible, I am sure he will have you invite them all here.”

Findekáno looked to Erestor for confirmation.

Erestor considered a moment. “Maedhros, before that is answered, I believe there is another consideration, one that Káno should not be burdened with right now. I would like to discuss this privately for a brief moment, or if you feel we should have the floor open so to speak, I will honor that as well. There is a very fine line between not informing a patient to their benefit and insulting the intelligence of an adult man. Gildor, your comment too is welcome. I am new at this and must learn what is best.”

Gildor, who had become the keeper of the letters, nodded as Erestor spoke. “I think, if we were looking for an answer to the question ‘can Findekáno be broken?’, we have an answer.” When it was quiet for some time, Gildor asked of Findekáno, “How do you feel?”

“Lost. Confused.” Findekáno searched for words. “Empty.”

“I think Maedhros is partially correct in what he is saying. Your grandchildren do not need to see you this way. On the other hand, I think it is very important that Ereinion does come and see you like this. And Erien. The children can be left with their spouses, but the two of them need to be part of this. Their participation will help you to heal, even if it is over a distance when they return home.”

The inky head shook. “Maybe I am not doing so badly. What I wanted to ask but did not know if I should was that I really felt Ereinion should come here.”  _ Mae, my question will force me to eat some earlier words to you as a cold dish, but I must ask because there cannot be a mistake. If Ereinion comes here, he is not leaving without being informed of the blackmailing by Faelion _ .  _ And frankly, after what was just revealed? I think he needs to know all of it. The whipping, the rape, the confusion and shame a gentle and loving man has carried until it came to this. I will yield to what you and Gildor feel is best but while I do not want to cause disturbance for its own sake, I have zero interest in helping your family keep its dirty secrets. We have been collectively sacrificed at the altars of their pride, ambition, and prejudice and none more than him. I am done, and most of why I am done is in defense of Findekáno and Glorfindel.  _ “I also wanted to know about our friends from the Peacock. I intend to reach out to Élarminë whom I trust implicitly and I would like to ask him to call on us here first.”

_ There is no lie, and you do not need to qualify your question to me when it is this important. For my part, I agree. I just penned that letter; little is left unsaid. But Gildor is here and will counsel us to speak to his father, because there is time to gain his wisdom and I can hardly disagree with that. Do you? _

_ No, but I am already scheming; I have not been a politician much of my life for nothing. What is the one outcome that really cannot take place? Turgon succeeding to the throne one day. What then is critical? Who first gains control of the narrative. Which is why I believe that our story must be circulated carefully, discreetly, to the correct persons so that when it becomes the talk of Valinor and others believe the information will be a humiliation, a terrible blow against us, it will prove to be their own downfall. Faelion’s cruel endeavor is really a very tiny element of a far greater scenario, and both must be managed together. _

_ And this,  _ Glorfindel mused while watching Erestor,  _ is why I love him. This is important and all but it can wait. Káno needs us and I doubt he has ever been more vulnerable or adrift than he is right now. _

Truly, Glorfindel was correct. Findekáno had continued to cling to Maedhros like an abandoned child, and Maedhros, despite his words and actions, soothed him with considerate touches and soft kisses. “We did not want this for you, sweetheart, but there were few paths left--and better here and now with all of us, than suddenly and unexpectedly on your own.”

Findekáno burrowed closer. The blanket from earlier was draped over his shoulders by Gildor. “I hope you will still want to share with us what you made, when you are ready. We have something for you, too.”

“Can I see Erien tomorrow?” Findekáno’s voice was thin and fearful.

“If we can find her, absolutely,” answered Gildor. “Ereinion, too.”

The cat came out of nowhere and leaped into the pile of cushions. He cleaned his whiskers, oblivious, and then proceeded to climb up atop Findekáno, stopping only when he was on his shoulder to sniff at Maedhros’ hair.

“Cat, we are having a moment,” said Findekáno dryly.

The cat stretched and began to clean itself while perched on Findekáno’s shoulder.

A cross between a sigh and a yawn came from Findekáno. “I am hoping that saying all of you--usually--made me feel unbroken does not result in some sort of rationing of my contact with everyone, because I am not sure how much I would have left after that.”

“No rationing,” promised Gildor. “You get as much of each of us as you need.”

“What sounds best by way of snuggles?” Glorfindel wanted to know, on his belly and appearing like two eyes emerging from the creases of a blanket. “I confess to being a little hungry, but snuggles are always more interesting until my stomach starts growling,” Experimentally he found one of Findekáno’s toes under the blanket. “This little piggy went to garden. This little piggy wanted to dance with Glorfindel. This little piggy–”

“You do not get to hog all the piggies!” Erestor protested.

“But I found them first, and they are cute,” Glorfindel pouted.

“Shit, the stew and the bread!” Findekáno almost leapt up, mind going straight to duties, but plopped back down when Maedhros’ arm around his waist caused resistance. “Someone needs to retrieve supper, and we should probably eat at a table to keep crumbs out of here.” The cat, distrurbed now from the movement, sauntered off with a sneeze.

“On it, at least the food not burning part” Glorfindel answered, springing up happily. That meant he could sample when no one was looking if he hurried.

“I can set the table,” Erestor volunteered, not about to be left out.

When the art table was cleared of paper and paint and replaced with dishes and food, Maedhros carried Findekáno over without first asking, though there seemed no objection as Findekáno snuggled against him. Only the bread was slightly crustier than anticipated, but the warm center which melted fresh butter made up for it. 

“I am still very curious about what is on your cart, Findekáno,” said Gildor once the meal was underway.

“I suppose I can show you. I expect you will find it all very silly,” sighed Findekáno.

“It is so nice to know that someone could think that I would think anything is silly when mostly I am ridiculous,” Glorfindel smiled cheerfully. “This is all so delicious, love. Thank you so much for making it.”

“Thank you.” Findekáno lowered his spoon and looked to Erestor. “Am I still allowed to cook?”

“Yes, sweetheart. I want to say, ‘of course you are’ but may I ask you, did you ask that question because you are upset at the things that were taken away or because you do not understand why they were removed and so you genuinely fear cooking would be taken too?” Erestor asked gently.

“Of course I am upset,” answered Findekáno immediately. “I think I am handling it very well,” his voice wavered. “I told you I would obey, and I am...really trying right now. Really, really trying. I just...I guess I do not want a surprise later.”

“I am listening carefully to the things you tell me,” Erestor answered. “And I appreciate that you are sharing your feelings with me. I want you to know I will answer questions as best as I am able, though I think it best we eat our meal first because this is really good and I want to appreciate your gift. Thank you also for doing this, taking the time. I am often more than a little envious of your abilities here in the kitchen but mostly I am just very grateful.”

Findekáno gave a single nod. He set his spoon down, folded his hands in his lap, and stared at one of the unlit sconces on the wall.

Maedhros’ jaw twitched, but he looked to Gildor and said, “I really like the mobile you made for me. I thought I might hang it up in our new shared bedroom, possibly by the windows. I want to make sure it is high enough so that the cat does not attack it.”

“I like that idea,” Erestor said. “Could mine be added nearby? Sometimes when I cannot sleep I like to see objects silhouetted against the window and I think these might move if there is any air flow in the room. It would be nice. I like kinetic...things.”

“Yes. Glorfindel, would you like yours there, too?” asked Maedhros.

“That would be lovely. Without a ladder, I would not be able to get it up there on my own,” said Glorfindel. “And bringing a ladder all the way up to the third floor is not an appealing thought.”

“I am so glad you like them,” Gildor said happily.

“Erestor, may I go back to the cushions to lie down?” asked Findekáno quietly. He was staring at the half loaf of bread now.

“Do you feel in any way physically unwell, sweetheart? Yes you may go but if you are ill we would like to know. We can be with you and be silent; we know at times you need this.”

“I just...I need to remove myself from...this. Sharing a meal is supposed to be a happy thing, and I am not happy right now. I do not think I will be happy for some time. Excuse me.” Findekáno pushed his chair back and went to the center of the room without looking at any of them. He tugged off his shirt on the way and tossed it onto a chair before lying down on the cushions and pulling the blanket up over his head.

Maedhros looked over his shoulder at the lump on the cushions and sighed.

“Hey.” Gildor motioned for them to lean in together at the center of the table. “I just had a thought. When we give Findekáno his gift, we should try to get him to use it right away. Maybe get the night to end on a high note for him.”

“Eat quickly, gain sustenance, we have a mission for the good of the realm?” Glorfindel guessed.

“Well...he needs something. Something positive.” Gildor lowered his voice further. “There is something earlier that bothers me. When Edrahil asked about suicide. I know when each of you had your low points and...I have no recollection of him trying that, but he raised his hand. So when and how did he try to kill himself?”

“That was...shocking to me,” said Maedhros quietly. “He listened to my suicidal ideations for years and always tried to get me to see the positives in life. I cannot imagine him trying to kill himself.”

Glorfindel stared at Erestor. “He never spoke of anything like that to us. Nor did we ever hear the threat of it, or catch him in any kind of intention we know of. I can only guess this was before we were really a part of his life? Before Sarati and this place? You might do well to direct your query to Beleg,” he suggested to Gildor.

“Hmm.” Gildor wiped his mouth as the others continued to eat. He leaned his elbows on the table and folded his hands so that he could lean his chin on them. There was a faraway look for a bit, a frown, and a shrug as he returned his focus back to his companions. “Nothing,” he said as he rubbed at his eyes. “Not that I am surprised. This is the sort of thing a lot of people never talk about.”

“Then we shall have to ask him, but not tonight. I do not have to know him as well as Maedhros to see he is close to his breaking point. It is taking all he has to maintain some thin thread of self control right now,” Erestor said. “I am so sorry for him, and so proud as well. I wish I did not understand those feelings.”


	17. Chapter 17

When supper was finished, Maedhros helped Erestor clear the table. While in the kitchen, Maedhros showed Erestor the bowl and plate left by Findekáno. “He barely ate anything. I think we should keep something warm for him in case he is hungry later.”

“It may need to go beyond that,” Erestor told him. “I do not trust him to intake enough food or the right food. When first we came together he was starving himself. I found ways to feed him blindfolded, for example, to remove his focus from the food. We may need to do similar. We may need to keep a notebook of what he eats to ensure he is getting enough food unless you and Gildor think that is going too far. I just know how easy it is to lose track, and after these few days we will have Eruglar to mind as well. And yet I cannot force a grown man to eat. Holy Eru, this is going to be difficult. I love him, I do not want to infantilize him. The truth is I am frightened.” He wrapped his arms around Maedhros’ waist briefly. “Who is not?” he asked bitterly.

Maedhros wrapped his arms around Erestor and kissed the top of his head. “We all are--and Findekáno most of all. That is why he will not look at us. I think the notebook is a good idea. Gildor keeps notes on everything. You can keep a notebook without telling him you are. Call it a journal. You are just being proactive.”

Erestor nodded. “This is still hard,” Erestor agreed.”But as you say, for our husband most of all.” Releasing Maedhros, he helped finish the preparations.

Upon returning, they found Glorfindel was on the cushions with Findekáno, rubbing his back. Glorfindel smirked at Erestor and Maedhros. “I know what your gifts are,” he said smugly.

“Where did you learn to smirk so well?” Erestor asked, eyes narrowing. “That is worrisome and unnatural, Fin. I do not believe you learned that from Káno or myself.”

“Maybe. But what if someone was enjoying their massage enough to tell you himself what is waiting for you?” Glorfindel nuzzled Findekáno’s cheek while rubbing the tense shoulders and neck expertly, not forgetting to work his fingertips into the scalp to find the delicate and tender muscles all around his skull.

“Uh oh. You are very, very good, Maedhros,” Erestor commented. “But so is he, and I am not sure if you have a chemistry set.”

“Mmmmm,” Glorfindel agreed. “Precisely.”

“And what is it exactly that you have hidden on here?” Maedhros asked, fingering one of the cloths without removing it.

Findekáno almost looked as if he was going to be contrary and deny them their treats, but Glorfindel dug his thumbs between Findekáno’s shoulder blades, which made Findekáno both groan and wince. “Go ahead,” Findekáno said to Maedhros. “I think that one belongs to Gildor--though, I suspect everyone will share.”

Maedhros slowly slid the cloth off of a covered glass dish. Within were more than a dozen very colorful spheres. “Uh...popcorn balls?” guessed Maedhros.

“No. I puffed some rice, because I noticed Gildor likes to eat rice that way, but hates the time it takes. I made the first batch with caramel, but they were too dense, so I made marshmallow and mixed it in, and that acted as a better binder that was not so heavy. Then I rolled them in different colored sugar before they cooled,” explained Findekáno.

“I love them! I can eat them?” asked Gildor. “Not that I want to devour your art, but, they look tasty.”

“I made them so they could be eaten,” said Findekáno.

“Gildor is going to eat sweet balls. I want to watch,” Glorfindel smiled. “Or do I get to taste too?”

“Mmmm...my balls are so good,” Gildor declared after he took a bite. “Here, want to taste my balls? My balls are a little squishy. Oh! Did you make them like this so that I could make dirty jokes?” asked Gildor.

Findekáno, who was smiling, nodded. “Why fight it with you?”

Erestor and Glorfindel both hugged Findekáno. “You have made his entire day. Maybe more than his day. That was so nice of you!” Since his arms were what was easily reachable, those were covered in little smooches while he was smothered with affection.

“Yours are on the second tier. The other one on the top is for Maedhros. I put things for Asfaloth and Eruglar on the bottom. I did not want them to feel left out,” said Findekáno.

Maedhros removed several additional cloths. He smiled to see the plate of fudge that had been created for him with care. For Erestor, there were several types of licorice, and Glorfindel had truffles waiting for him. 

“I made the pink ones taste like strawberry cheesecake, or, at least I hope they do,” said Findekáno. “Then the dark ones are chocolate hazelnut, and the lighter ones are a sort of rum caramel? But they basically just...those are ‘booze flavored’. You can tell there is alcohol, but the flavor got a little lost. Asfaloth has candied carrots, and I made a little cake for Eruglar...I hope it lasts until he returns. I do not want it to be hard for him. Oh, and I made brownies for Edrahil, Amarië, and Felagund, but I sent those with Edrahil earlier.”

“By comparison I was a shiftless lazy ass,” Erestor marveled. “You amaze me. Thank you, Káno.”

“Same,” Glorfindel added. “I feel like I should wait; I am not sure eating these and behaving myself can go together. Plus, you need to receive your present. It is quite exciting.” Happiness bubbled from the blond beauty.

Findekáno was still focused on Erestor. “Not sure I would call you lazy,” said Findekáno. “You and Gildor were pretty athletic earlier. I could see what was going on back there through the window in the kitchen.”

Erestor blushed like a brick, wholly surprised. “I...I…” he stammered, at a loss for words. “I did not know…” he whispered. “I should have asked you first, and not assumed...Káno, I am sorry...what...please talk to me?”

“Why are you sorry?” wondered Findekáno. “It was very erotic. The two of you looked like you were having a good time. I enjoyed watching. It was between the fudge and the licorice, so it gave me something to do while I waited for candy to set. Do not worry--I washed my hands after.”

“Wait--did you…” Maedhros lifted a brow. “Did you stand there in the kitchen masturbating while watching those two, when Glorfindel and I were in here writing?”

“You say that like you would not have done the same,” answered Findekáno defensively.

Erestor half- collapsed against his husband. “I believed I should have asked for more specific consent but I guess you are telling me that I had it,” he sighed. “Yes, I am paranoid.” He rubbed his face. “If I have not sinned against you and the sight of me being pleasured brought you the same in turn, then I am glad. And a little envious, I think I might like to see that sometime,” he mused. 

“I want to make something clear now so that none of us have to second guess--at least, when it comes to me. I am not going to stop anyone in this room from having consensual sexual intimacies with anyone else in this room,” said Findekáno. “It will not bother me. What sometimes does bother me? When it feels like one or more of you feel guilty and feel as if you need to include me, because that can be a lot of pressure and anxiety. I spent a lot of time alone. Sometimes, I get horny the same as the rest of you, but, and this will probably surprise you, or perhaps not, but a lot of the time, I am perfectly happy to take care of my own needs. Sometimes, I prefer it. Maybe that is rude, but it is just who I am.”

“Thank you for telling me that,” Erestor admitted. “I love you. So much. And I worry about you and fret that you feel loved and wanted because I know your family did not cherish you as they should have and I am not going to fail to do so like they did,” he said with surprising vehemence. “I just – you saved my life. How you feel matters to me. I care. And so when you leave and I think you are hurting or uncomfortable...not wanting sex is...who cares, really? That will never concern me. That you know you are loved and wanted in my heart matters tremendously and my fear is that you do not separate the two. Something...can someone take what I am saying and make better sense?” He looked up at Maedhros.

“I think he wants to make sure we are taking care of your needs, and you will have to forgive us, Káno, but we are four horny men in what is more or less a dream situation--and I will say that I at least know, even if the others do not, that you do have needs and desires, but you do not always know how to express them, or might feel that they are too unusual, so, in the interest of full disclosure--all of the things that you said you want to do? Someone here, sometimes multiple someones, are not only willing to be part of that, but are probably even getting hard right now just thinking about the possibilities.” Maedhros looked at Erestor. “How did I do?”

Erestor moved in such a manner as to adjust himself within his trousers, grimacing slightly. “Nailed it,” he sighed.

“Right. And I do not want to seem...more rude than I already probably do, but I do not always need someone else for the needs I have,” mumbled Findekáno.

Gildor nudged Erestor. “We should give Findekáno his gift.” 

“Yes. Fin, do you have the jars?”

“I do and if I may say, they turned out exceeding expectations.” Glorfindel brought the ones he had prepared, matching canning jars that he had painted with an acrylic wash that had allowed the paint to run thicker to thin as it covered the glass, making for an interesting tint on each surface. Their ‘colors’ were lined up and the colored paper scheme explained by Gildor. 

Erestor watched Findekáno closely, trying to gauge his reaction. He quirked a brow at Maedhros, for he could not read the expression at all. His gaze seemed to travel to and fro along the jars, unfathomable.

“So...I should use this one now? Or...wait?” Findekáno had picked up the one that was not specifically stated to be for Finya.

“I would encourage you to try it out now,” Glorfindel said. “Else it would be like getting a toy you cannot play with. What fun is that?”

Findekáno unscrewed the jar. “So, I just pick one?” he asked. Everyone else nodded. 

“No peeking!” added Gildor.

Findekáno closed his eyes. He fished around and withdrew a slip of paper tinted red, immediately recognized by the others to belong to Maedhros. Finekano opened his eyes and read it. “Play a game of truth or dare like we used to when we would--” Findekáno laughed. “--scandalize our cousins.”

“You mean like that time we were all on holiday at the Estate?” Glorfindel asked.

“Perhaps a longer and more friendly game than that. So, we would have these epicly long games of Truth or Dare in this cave in Tirion,” explained Maedhros. “It resulted in a lot of dumb things, like I think Caranthir had to kiss Celegorm’s dog once, and I know there was Aredhel groping Celegorm, and--Celegorm was involved in a lot of the ridiculous things. And then, there would be dares like…” Maedhros glanced at Findekáno.

“I know you once performed fellatio before an audience of our cousins and brothers,” said Findekáno. “We did a lot of dumb things. I guess it was...it was fun, but stupid fun. So...were we just supposed to share the memory of that, or does that mean we play Truth or Dare now?”

“I would relish a game with you and our lovers...spouses...group thing here,” Maedhros said. “Maybe, though, we set the mood a little--it is getting dark, we light a few candles, sit on this comfy cushion pile together, and see where it goes with Truth or Dare.”

“This kind of sounds like a covert way to continue the therapy session, but I...right, I am kind of curious how this could go, because I feel Gildor might actually scandalize us,” remarked Findekáno.

Gildor cracked his knuckles. “You know it.”

“I hate that we have been married the longest and probably cannot out-scandalize any of them,” Erestor groused, still clinging to an amused Findekáno but speaking to Glorfindel.

“Mmmm...I dunno, Ress. I think about that time your costume at that party was basically paint and yeah, while it might not have involved going down on your knees for me that was fairly scandalous.”

“But I did go down on my knees for you.”

“I meant AT THE PARTY.” Glorfindel stared at Erestor. “I love you. And now that things are in a better place, I feel like you two (he gestured between the dark beauty and Gildor) are going to create so much light conversational interest.”

Gildor chuckled, and so did Erestor, who met each other’s eyes. “You know it.”

“I just want to remind everyone that the scandalous costume with the body paint would not have quite been seen to its end had it not been for my timely intervention,” Findekáno said, almost a little too proudly. 

“Someone sounds a little sassy tonight,” remarked Maedhros. 

“Am I not allowed?” countered Findekáno.

“You are very much allowed,” Maedhros assured him.

“Though I am not sure if Káno or Finya would really want to play Truth or Dare,” Findekáno mused.

Maedhros was moving the pillows and cushions so that there was a center space on the hardwood floor, presumably because there was some anticipation of a mess occuring otherwise. “Hmm. What did you have in mind, dear?” 

“Finya is tired and overwhelmed, and Káno lost all of his responsibilities, so he is sulking off in a corner.” Findekáno moved his legs to make room for what Maedhros was doing. “I do not want to create confusion, though, so I am trying to figure out how to make this work.”

“Ah--I know where this is going.” Maedhros looked to Glorfindel. “Would you be terribly upset if we call both of you ‘Fin’ tonight. I am sure, as you know, that harkens back to very loud parties and gymnastic adventures, but also, for him, it is another part of who he is.”

“I have an idea,” Erestor offered. “What if nothing sexual can be proposed to Fin. Káno. Sorry, give me a minute to work that out in my head, on the dare part. And if he changes his mind on the participation, he can do that by initiating silently with...someone chosen in advance, so that if he feels the need to retreat there is no big announcement and we will all be aware and we are all understanding of this anyway and will realize what is happening? Could that work?”

“Um…” Maedhros and Findekáno exchanged uncertain glances. “I do not want to speak for him,” Maedhros said carefully, “but the feeling I was getting, Fin,” he emphasized, looking at Findekáno, “is that you actually  _ do _ have an interest in playing in a--”

“I think we all just need to upfront declare what is not acceptable, and...then just play,” said Findekáno.”I would prefer, very much, not hearing anyone use ‘Finya’ or ‘Káno’ when we are playing, because…” he trailed off. “But if it will be too confusing to have two people called by the same nickname right now, then, I will think of something else. Or maybe I should just pick something else from the jar.”

“I am up for anything,” Gildor proclaimed.

“Almost anything for me,” said Maedhros. “No pulling my hair or anything that--actually, make this simple--leave my hair out of it. Just about anything else is fair game.”

“I am Glorfindel for now,” the firm declaration was made. “He is Fin. Glorfindel wants to play.” Very tentatively, with flushed cheeks, he traced a finger down Maedhros’ forearm but smiled at Erestor.

“Is there anything Glorfindel does not want?” asked Maedhros. He brushed the blond’s burning cheek with the back of his hand.

The cheeks reddened more. “I...I do not think…”

“You must not restrain him. Tie him up,” Erestor clarified. “Your hands are alright, because he knows you will release him immediately if he asks it. The other terrifies him.”

Nodding, Glorfindel looked away. “That. I am not so good with being treated roughly, I am sorry. It reminds me too much of…” he shook his head, smiling. “I can try, a little. I know you prefer that.”

Maedhros turned to Gildor. “I take it these two have not played this game much,” he said of Glorfindel and Erestor.

“Eh. It was not a particularly popular game beyond the First Age,” said Gildor. “I think most of what they experienced was the night you were taunting Findekáno about his decision to work instead of relax.”

“Not one of my finer moments,” admitted Maedhros.

“Perhaps a refresh on rules would help,” said Glorfindel. “My knowledge is limited.”

“In Truth or Dare, you get asked ‘Truth or Dare’,” explained Maedhros. “If you choose ‘Truth’, the person asking gets to ask you a question, and you are to answer truthfully, no matter how strange the answer or question. If you choose ‘Dare’, then you are dared to do something, often something silly or, if the group knows each other well, it might be sexual in nature. If you refuse, which you can on both accounts, then you accept instead a penalty--which are usually chosen ahead of time. When we played long ago, we had this jug of wine that was...there were questionable things going on. It had bits of things floating in it, and it was very strong, and no one even knows how it was there, but the penalty was usually drinking from that jug.”

“We had one game where the group thought making the penalty that the person had to kiss either Maedhros or I was funny, which was actually somewhat rude, but we turned it around on them and just took penalties so that we could spend the game making out and upsetting certain members of the group,” said Findekáno. “Going back to the ‘do not want’ list, I am very particular about what goes in my mouth or up my ass, so if we could not suggest those, I would appreciate it.”

“It does not seem too complicated,” Glorfindel said with a cheerful grin and a shrug. “I will learn. It seems like three of you here are very experienced with this. I am more than content for you to work out the penalty...uhm, cleaning the stable and the loo comes to mind, just tallying up on a list, things like that? Either way I am sure Ress and I will be fine with it.”

“Eh, those are chores,” said Gildor. “I know! What if the penalty is having to remove a piece of clothing?” His eyes twinkled.

Findekáno, who was at present only wearing his pants, sized up Gildor. “You are certainly hopeful.”

All Gildor did was grin and waggle his brows at Findekáno.

“So the point is to have a bunch of naked men playing Truth or Dare. Got it,” Erestor teased. “Well, I am hardly going to object.”

“Hmmmmmmmnnhmmmmm,” Glorfindel beamed.

“That too,” Erestor added drily, until he lost his composure and began laughing into Findekáno’s ribs.

“You took the least penalties of anyone I ever played with,” Maedhros told Findekáno, “but I think if you want to go and change, no one is going to fault you.”

“Stay comfortable or put a shirt on…” Findekáno weighed his options. “Can I count my blanket cloak as an article of clothing?”

“Sure,” said Maedhros before anyone could lodge an objection.

Findekáno pulled the blanket over his shoulders. “Do you have any ‘do not want’ things, Eres?”

A frown passed over the statuesque face. “None come to mind?”

“I have another penalty idea,” said Gildor. “What if the penalty can either be removing a piece of clothing, or, receiving a spanking from the person who asked the question?”

“This sounds like a sneaky way for you to get more spankings,” Maedhros accused.

Gildor shrugged. “It seems logical, because someone could remove all of their clothing and have no penalties left, but still want to skip a question or dare.”

“Wait, that is a penalty?” Erestor frowned. “What am I missing?”

“Shhh,” advised Gildor. “It is  _ absolutely _ a penalty,” he said. Then he winked.

“It is fine with me that we have a collection of penalties,” said Maedhros. “Now, since I suggested the game, I think I should be able to ask first.” He glanced around at the others, considering his options. Erestor decided to make himself as comfortable as possible by using all four of them as some manner of cushion, because he could, while still clinging to Findekáno’s blanketed tummy as his head cushion. This left his long hair in easy proximity to Gildor’s restless hands, and within moments he was making small twirly strands out of little sections. “Gildor--since you have been so helpful in figuring out penalties--truth or dare?” asked Maedhros.

“Oooo...dare!” Gildor said excitedly.

“I dare you...to drink a shot from Glorfindel’s belly button,” Maedhros said smugly.

“Now I get why you cleared out the center,” said Findekáno. 

Maedhros was already going to the bar to retrieve the liquor. “What do you want, Gildor? Rum? Whiskey?”

“Rum,” answered Gildor immediately. He looked at Glorfindel. “And so it begins.”

Amused, Glorfindel lifted his shirt and tried to find a position conducive to keeping that much alcohol contained on his lower abdomen. “Do not take too long and if you tickle me, you are cleaning up the mess!” the blond scolded in advance.

Gildor fluffed up a pillow while they waited for Maedhros to return. “Here, if you lie down, I can suck it out of your navel. Just hold still.”

“You seem very confident,” Findekáno remarked while taking over the duties of playing with Erestor’s hair.

“Who has not taken a shot from someone’s belly button?” questioned Gildor.

“I think this is just a you thing, dear,” said Maedhros as he brought back the bottle of rum for Gildor. “Here. You can pour, but do not be stingy,” teased Maedhros.

“I feel so unworldly,” Erestor pondered. “Then again, I might have done this but been too drunk off my ass to remember it. There is always that. Eh.”

“It was probably shitty booze,” Glorfindel pointed out.

Findekáno laughed. “You two are like my personal comedians.”

“At your service,” his first two spouses answered together with matching gestures, causing him to laugh harder.

“Alright, keep still,” Gildor directed as he knelt down and pulled the cork from the bottle. He waited until Glorfindel stopped any little fidgets, then poured enough to fill the cavity without having it spill over. “I do hope you have washed that regularly,” Gildor said as he put the bottle aside. Holding his own hair back, he bowed down and sucked the liquid up in one go, then flicked his tongue in the divet, knowing full well the reaction he would get.

“Jerk!!” Glorfindel giggle yelled, squirming from the sensation and diving to grab Gildor’s midsection, trying to twist him onto the cushions and throw him off.

Gildor flopped onto the pillows, laughing and chortling. The bottle was knocked over by his knee, and Maedhros reached out to right it again. Once Gildor had his bearings, he sat up, looked around, spied Erestor, and said, “Truth or Dare, darling?”

Erestor stared hard, hesitant. On one hand, what could he possibly care about revealing to his family? For the other, this was Gildor, he would be asked to do something lascivious. He knew which he would usually choose, so… “Dare.”

“Ooo..I was not expecting that. Hmm…” Gildor sat back, propped up by his hands behind him. “Alright. I dare you to let someone else in the group pick out one of the toys from upstairs, and you have to let them put it in you and leave it there for the rest of the game.”

“Damn,” whispered Findekáno under his breath. “Remind me not to opt for ‘dare’ if he is picking.”

The dark head tilted to one side. “Guess I am going to get the box of toys.” Extracting himself from the comfortable spot with a pout, he first bent down to kiss Findekáno. “I would make sure I picked, “ he said in the softest whisper imaginable against his ear. “And I would select one that would not be too large and would rub against your prostate whenever you move, even a little. There is one, you know.” With a kiss to the crown of his head, Erestor carried out his errand with alacrity.

“Who will it be?” asked Gildor with giddiness when Erestor returned. “Will you have your long-time lover choose?” he said as he pointed at Glorfindel. “Or perhaps a more conservative pick?” He looked to Findekáno. “And then, there is a new love.” He blew a kiss to Maedhros. “Who will make the best selection for you?”

“I was unaware I had a choice of individual,” Erestor said. “I thought I would be at the mercy of chance,” he countered to Gildor. “Is there an easy means to draw lots? Roll a die? Something?”

“You pick,” said Gildor. “That was part of the dare.”

“I can do it,” offered Maedhros when it seemed Erestor was still uncertain about choosing.

Erestor nodded, seemingly relieved. He crawled to Maedhros, placing the box on his lap. The others in the room tracked every motion when the exquisite ellon knelt facing away from the redhead, sitting on his heels. Part of Erestor wanted to hide his anticipation of being touched in this way, and he wondered why. Old habit? Some instinct toward privacy? That needed to be let go. Changing posture exposed his face, the faster breathing. Though not part of the original intention, a gaze over his shoulder showed Maedhros eyes darkened with desire for him. A passing curiosity if Maedhros might finish what he would initiate here, though he ought not be greedy…

“Something nice to get you wanting, but not enough to have you come without me,” said Maedhros lazily as he looked at the options. There was one that looked like two balls stacked upon each other, not much longer than one of his fingers. “You might want to think about who you want to ask while I prepare you,” suggested Maedhros as he found the oil that was brought down with the toys. “You might be a little distracted once this is in. Would you like to sit upon my lap once I have finished?”

An immediate chill ran the length of Erestor’s body, goose flesh appearing all over. “Yes, please.” His voice remained level, but the others with the view of his expression could see otherwise. “Uhm, hm. Let me think. Turnabout so deserves fair play and yet...Maedhros, truth or dare?”

“Truth ,” he answered as he began the slow preparation of Erestor’s passage.

“Shit,” Erestor said under his breath. “Was sure he would take ‘dare.’ Now I...uhm...mmmff. Alright. Here is ‘Erestor sucks all the joy out of the room’,” he half-smiled. “What do you fear most that the others here could learn about you?”

Maedhros waited until he had fully lubricated Erestor and the toy, had it inserted, and Erestor on his lap to answer. “I fear what would happen if something causes my father to start another...let us say ‘revolution’. I was unable to say no to a lot of things the last time.”

“I understand how anyone would fear that, Mae. But that is not an answer to the actual question, which I asked based on my own answer. To that question. The question asked not what you fear as a generality, but what could be discovered or revealed  _ about you that you specifically _ would struggle with, cringe, feel vulnerable concerning...if we here knew of it?”

“Oh!” Maedhros kissed Erestor’s brow. “I see. Hmm. Do you mean like a sexual fantasy or something else?”

“Only you can answer the question, love,” Erestor laughed. “You are the one who chose ‘truth’.”   
  


“This might be hard, because I am fairly open about my sexual desires.” Maedhros thought about it a little more, and then loudly cleared his throat. “Actually, I think I have something. The other night, at the temple. I think I might want to go back.”

“Is it a second question if I ask you why wanting to go back is difficult? Because of how hard the first time was? I should not put words in your mouth, forgive me.”

“Technically, it is a second question, but I will still answer it. For a very long time, I believed that religion was for the weak. It was a crutch that people used when they could not face reality. And...maybe I have been wrong about that,” said Maedhros.

“Thank you.” Twisting a little, Erestor curled up as best he could given his...circumstances. Only to be here, against the warm chest was all he wanted. Not that he meant any disregard to his other spouses but his want for Maedhros felt overwhelming and it seemed impossible that Findekáno did not want the same. And yet.

“Glorfindel? Do you fancy a truth or a dare?” asked Maedhros.”

“I am going to disappoint Gildor and say truth as well,” he grinned from ear to ear. Taunting Gildor, he made a little seated dance and an impromptu tune to the words ‘working my way to dare you’ before flopping back laughing at Gildor’s attempt at indignation.

“Do you prefer angry sex or make-up sex, and why?” asked Maedhros.

“Oh damn. You are going to ask me to choose between two things with nearly equal merit? This is like, do I prefer the filets or the prime rib roast and why? Nuuuuuuuuts well I have to just say something so I have already told you I cannot have a preference, and I will tell you why angry sex has merit. It is not a state secret that I prefer to be submissive in bed. It is not right at all to say I want to be treated as a woman does but I do not want to be thrown around. A good solid pounding is as rough as I like, and then only once I am well on my way to climax. 

“But if I am angry with my partner that is an awfully fast way to see what dominant side I do have. Obviously I would never give out what was not wanted. But if at that time I have someone basically asking me for aggression in lovemaking, I am able to channel it. I can spank, use a crop. Thrust harder, faster than I ever would usually. There is this energy, a sort of fire, that needs someplace to go. What is happening in my mind at those times is not that I want to hurt the other person. It is honestly kind of sad. It is my way of having these feelings of grabbing hold of someone and just...shaking them, saying ‘I am here, stop taking me for granted, stop counting on my goodwill.” A few tears fell. “Stop hurting me.” Very swiftly he knuckled those aside. “It is a means to let all that out that seems to leave everyone purged, and hopefully able to make a fresh start though now that I have said these things I wonder how I will feel next time I am that mad. Guess I will find out.”

“So...what happens for you during makeup sex, then?” asked Maedhros.

“We are giving out free answers tonight, huh?” Glorfindel teased. 

“I am trying to figure out whether I should shoot for angry sex or makeup sex if I get you upset,” Maedhros countered playfully.

“Well, that is all very tender and affectionate, and sensual. That involves the chemistry set, a lot if it was my fault, a little if it was the other person. Always massage, always aromatherapy, and since Fin, candles too and a lot of the time harp music. It was seriously upgraded. Unless he is involved with the makeup, in which case, we kind of punt on the music.”

“In that case, I will pencil you in for makeup sex, because angry sex does not sound so pleasant, should I be the one to offend you,” said Maedhros.

“I doubt I could do much to you if I have serviced Fin enjoyably,” Glorfindel smiled. “But as you wish.”

“Thank you for answering. I believe it is now your turn,” said Maedhros as he continued to snuggle Erestor.

“My sweet Fin,” Glorfindel smiled. “Under those blankets. Truth or dare, love?”

Once again, little more than his golden eyes and a tuft of hair could be seen. Findekáno peeled enough of the blanket back to be able to speak.and be heard. “I answered a lot of questions earlier, so maybe dare.”

“You can decline, that was part of the agreement. I so like to dance, am always eager to do so with you, and it is so rarely the right time or place. I want to dance with you for maybe two minutes, there is enough room for a simple box step or turning waltz step if we move those chairs we are not going to use out of the way. But I want to dance unclothed.” The blond waited for an answer, without eagerness or expectation of denial in his tone. 

“Does it have to be a boring box step, or can it be more erotic?” asked Findekáno. 

“The important part for me was that I be able to enjoy being against you, mirroring your steps as you make them for most of the time. You can talk to me here,” he tapped his head. “I wanted to feel the movement with you. “And…” he looked down. “Hope I can still do this. The other day at the Peacock was not really an actual test for me, since you were feeling so unwell. But yes, I would try what you are asking for.”

Findekáno smiled guiltily. “I already have my pants off under here. I took them off when Erestor moved over there and left me with the blanket.” As he spoke, Gildor, who was just to the side, lifted the corner and peeked, and gave a thumbs up to Glorfindel to confirm this was the case. Findekáno yanked the blanket back.

“I will disrobe once you stand up,” Glorfindel promised. “Unless someone here wants to call that a bonus prize or something,” he chuckled.

Easing up with the blanket still around him, Findekáno moved to the center. He almost knocked the bottle of rum over, and pushed it aside with his foot. “Can someone put that somewhere else?” he asked. Gildor retrieved it and placed it outside of the circle. “Here, Glorfindel. Join me in here, and you can disrobe in private.” Findekáno was holding the blanket out a little so that it would create a very small changing area for Glorfindel, though it would put them both in close contact as well.

“Oh I...shit.” Glorfindel stopped and covered his face with his hands, taking a deep breath. Studying Findekáno, he adopted a look of resolve, but when he spoke his voice trembled. “We agreed to a new kind of openness and that means me as well. Ordinarily I would follow you without question because you have just suggested a simple thing, when the truth is I could care less if I drop all my clothing right here. Nudity does not really concern me unless it might get me arrested. But I would not tell you that because if I told you the truth, I might upset you. You might use what I said to compare yourself to me and find a way to be ‘not normal,’ or you might find a way to say that you were only trying to be helpful or maybe you would have said ‘huh okay’ but any of the responses were possibilities which is why I just...shut up. It was easier than risking upsetting you. 

“That is my normal, a lot of little things I do or do not do, trying to second guess what might set you off or suddenly cause your mood to spiral downward on a moment’s notice. If you are going to heal, you need to know that this has been going on for a very long time. If I am going to be of any use to you, I need to stop it. I am sorry to make such a big fucking deal out of a simple courtesy from you, I want to start crying and run out of here, not necessarily in that order, but I am trying to move past those impulses and stay with those who will help me. I love you, and I am taking my pants off. That is, should I? Or did I just ruin everything.” He stood there, blinking furiously and looking away now, working hard to slow his breathing and dispel the increasing sense of panic. As that demanded a lot of effort, for the moment he could not mind anything else.

Findekáno shrugged. It was Maedhros who spoke. “So I think some of the athletics in Middle-earth were similar to Valinor used to be. That is, nudity was part of the competition. Eventually, decorum and certain laws put an end to that, but that man right there used to compete on the rings and floor exercises in the nude during the midsummer games in Valinor. I think the gymnastics counsel regulated that competitors had to be clothed for all other things.”

A nod from Findekáno confirmed that this was correct. “I just thought you might want privacy. I also needed a moment to get my erection to go away.” Findekáno let the blanket slip down onto the ground, revealing his well-defined body in all its glory.

“So, a word about that from me,” Glorfindel said, dropping his pants at once to reveal his own state of arousal against his loincloth, pulling his tunic over his head, and ridding himself of the undergarment faster than should be possible. His socks began to peel off with the aid of each of his big toes. “I am not going to assume that an erection is necessarily sexual. You do not have to hide your body until your penis hangs limp for me and I am pretty sure the others share my view. I am content to ignore it as it is perfectly natural; if you are aroused and want me or another of us, you know I would welcome you. Personally I would like to start dancing and let your penis figure itself out. I want to be in your arms, my golden-eyed perfection.”

“I have no idea how everyone else was not aroused watching Maedhros and Erestor,” said Findekáno. “There were right there, Maedhros oiling up Erestor, Erestor acting like it was just normal to be in that position, and now the two of them sitting there...I had to get my pants off. It was too hard to touch myself with them on.”

Gildor’s eyes went wide and he sounded envious. “You were masturbating under there while the rest of us were playing?”

“Not the whole time, but sure.” Findekáno’s penis remained erect.

Glorfindel approached him and did just as he had at the Peacock; placed his arm around Findekáno’s lower back, touched an arm by way of a reminder, and had his feet at Káno’s insteps. Relaxing, he prepared his mind to attune to his partner's body. Glorfindel snickered to himself. He could feel Káno’s heavy sacs laid over his own erection, while the rest pressed into his abdomen, just fitting in below the breastbone.  _ Made for each other, indeed.  _

Findekáno began by leading them in a few steps facing one another, but once they were in sync with their steps, he turned Glorfindel in his arms and drew him close so that they were pressed together. A low-hummed melody came from Findekáno, felt by Glorfindel through his back, heard by the ear that Findekáno kissed now and then. 

Their dance was fluid, with ample rolling of hips and swaying of their bodies. Findekáno kept one hand on Glorfindel’s waist, but the other snaked over his husband’s body. He began to whisper suggestive words as their pace quickened. “Do you think you could keep dancing in step if I were to enter you? Could you handle staying on your feet if our bodies were joined while we danced? What if I slide one of those toys in you, just like Maedhros did to Erestor? Could you keep dancing with me like that?”

Innocent eyes that widened more and more made stifled noises at each new question. “I do not know how we fit on our feet but to have you...please, I want to try. All of that. I always want you, Fin. I can feel I am wet,” he added in a whisper.

“In that case I will have you both ways.” Findekáno spun Glorfindel back around. He lifted one of Glorfindel’s legs up and positioned it to hook around his waist. “Up on the tip of your toes, stand on my foot.” That and a slight bend in one knee allowed Findekáno the ability to slide up into Glorfindel’s slick passage. A new dance began, something slower and more sensual, with Findekáno guiding all movements, and rolling his hips, one hand helping to keep one of Glorfindel’s legs elevated, and the other on his rear. “Always ready for me,” he purred.

“You see all of me. They love me but you understand,” Glorfindel whispered. “I need you. I am selfish. Oh, so good. Did not expect...oh Blessed Eru, Fin, please, more. I cannot hold long. Wanted this too much.” He held on tightly, rolling his face on his lover’s dewy skin.

“If this is what he plans to do at the Peacock, I expect he will pack the house every night,” said Gildor from where watched. He was idly touching himself while observing the sensual dance.

“This show never leaves this house,” Findekáno firmly told their audience. He spread his legs just slightly so that he could thrust his hips. It was these shallow thrusts that brought forth several moans from Glorfindel, and a series of gasps followed by the contented sound of release. Findekáno looked to Maedhros. “Oil,” he demanded. The bottle was tossed up to him, and he caught it with one hand. With a feral growl, he turned Glorfindel around and began to finger his puckered entrance with slick fingers.

“Oh, yes!” the blond exclaimed, wondering if he had been given the really good drugs by Edrahil and this was all just the best dream ever. More moaning snippets of encouragement were voiced plus any position he thought might help with the task at hand. One never turned down a chance at a second round unless serious illness or spreading fire were immediate problems, thus he spared no effort pushing back against the blissfully intruding fingers. Some sense prevailed though, and he remembered to concentrate on relaxing his all important muscle. Findekáno was larger than Erestor, and this might be… Glorfindel wheezed a little just thinking about it.

Findekáno tossed the bottle back over his shoulder, and then coaxed Glorfindel to come to the nearest of the chairs. Once Glorfindel was seated, Findekáno both eased into Glorfindel’s body and scooped him up, with Glorfindel’s legs over his arms, and Findekáno holding him behind the back, with Glorfindel’s arms around his neck. Then he stood, which lodged him even deeper. He took a minute to adjust, and then stepped back carefully to where they had been earlier. “I hope...you have enjoyed our dance,” said Findekáno before he kissed Glorfindel and rocked his hips.

Glorfindel clenched all of his internal muscles with all his strength. “It has been like nothing before.” He relaxed. “I hope we try many variations on the choreography.” Squeezing again, he used his legs as leverage to wriggle and move somewhat, though Findekáno had the far easier control. “Take me,” he encouraged. “Use me.”

For another few minutes, Findekáno attempted to continue some resemblance of dancing, but even he could not continue indefinitely while bearing all of Glorfindel’s weight. He eventually stepped back to the plush chair, and with Glorfindel on his back, Findekáno grasped Glorfindel’s erection with one hand and held onto the back of the chair with his other, which allowed him to practically ram into Glorfindel over and over. With growls and grunts, golden eyes gleaming, Findekáno leaned down and said, “You are mine.”

“Yes...yes...yes, I…” in the perfect intersection of pain and pleasure, Glorfindel cried out and burst a second time, hands suddenly grasping for the strong arms that held him. Euphoric, dazed, raw, tears trickled out of his colorful eyes but there was no crying. Weak now and spent, for a few seconds he experienced his husband fully unleashed in and on his body.  _ And you his lawful spouse before Eru. _

With teeth clenched and muscles tight, Findekáno thrust several more times, each of them with a pause between, a snort or grunt accompanying the motion each time. The very last time, the groan lasted several seconds before Findekáno slid out and rested back, knelt on the floor, his hands now on Glorfindel, cheek resting on Glorfindel’s knee. “Give me a moment and...carry you...to the washroom.”

“Please? Only want to hold you. Someone will bring a cloth. I need you to hold me.”

And without further prompting, Gildor took it upon himself to retrieve a basin of warm water and some cloths. He directed the pair to the center where the cushions would not get wet. There, Gildor had spread out a towel, and while Findekáno made good on the request and held Glorfindel, Gildor cleaned their bodies and dried them off again. “The two of you are beautiful together,” whispered Gildor, and with a kiss to the top of Glorfindel’s head, he retreated from them.

“I needed this. Having this with him has been what let me get better,” Glorfindel murmured, kissing Findekáno on the lips chastely. “I do not mean this in any way as a slight while at the same time I do not know how to say it so that it does not feel heard as one. I feel like he sees me in a way others do not. I feel understood and wanted by him in a way that leaves me whole. It has meant a great deal to me; I have never had that before. In a way, how could I have? It started out as a total mess but he salvaged it and me along with it. Oh and, uh, sweetheart you have to choose who is next though I guess you get to rest a few minutes. Thank you, Gildor, this is very kind of you.”

Gildor smiled and gave a nod.

“Uhm...Maedhros,” chose Findekáno.

With Erestor still on his lap, and the two of them having spent the time that Glorifndel and Findkeano danced and more fondling one another, it was no surprise that Maedhros again chose truth.

Findekáno contemplated how to word his question. He finally asked, “When did you start drinking again?”

The room was silent. “Hoooow...did you find out?” questioned Maedhros back.

“Earlier, the rum. We do not keep alcohol in this room; it was always in the next room. But when you dared Gildor, two things occured to me. You went right to something with alcohol, which is in itself telling, and you knew what was in this room and where it was, and...that was confirming.”

Maedhros sighed. “Yes...I do not recall the day.”

“Before the wedding?”

Maedhros closed his eyes. “Yeah.”

“What are you thinking now, Mae?” Erestor asked gently.

“That I feel stupid for getting caught. And...not that I expect to be believed, but I was not drinking excessively. A lot has been going on. I tried, and...I failed again.” Maedhros sighed.

“I knew,” Glorfindel told him. “I hoped that you would talk to us about it? But I also knew you were not sousing yourself to the mainland and back.”

“Things like this are a process, my newest love. All my bones are shattered from how many times they have broken, falling down in failure. Do you look at me and think that I succeeded and you failed again?” Erestor shook his head No. “Every day could be the day I yield and use coca again. I am terrified of that but I know it could happen. And if it did, I would confess it to all of you and ask for help at once. I would understand that I needed to focus not on the failure but the need to keep trying. It is so very hard, Mae. Just like it is hard for Gildor, and going to be hard for Fin. Even Glorfindel – what he has been trying to explain to you in his own way is an addiction to his depression. It became a refuge for him, a coping mechanism. He too is fighting temptations. There is no condemnation. Only love. I love you. Everyone here loves you.” Toy in his ass or not, he raised up to give a big hug.

“It--” Maedhros leaned into the loving warmth. “It was in the middle of everything that was happening with Fin. Physical issues, and the stress of everything, and I did not want to detract from that, because I...even at my worst with the alcohol? I can function remarkably well. Big boy, high tolerance. Maybe I thought I would just use it to cope for a day or two and be away from it before someone noticed.”

“I noticed,” admitted Gildor. “You already have a routine again.”

“Do I?”

Gildor ticked on his fingers. “Right before you brush your teeth for bed, probably because you assume you can get the scent covered. You disappear for about twenty minutes. Any time the dog needs to be walked, you have offered, and you go off the property, probably into the woods--I would guess we would find a bottle hidden out there.”

Slowly, Maedhros nodded. “Yes. You would.”

“This may be the first time I have ever given a sermon to someone controlling a phallus in my body, which is proof that life never runs out of new experiences,” Erestor began, still facing Maedhros, altering his position to a side sitting perch on one of his husband’s thighs. “Mae, if you want to drink, you are an adult. You can drink privately in any room of the house if you do not prefer to drink outside. If you want to drink in front of us...I personally have no objection. What you want to do, if anything, that is up to you. If you want to try again, you have help here. If you are not ready you are not ready. You have my love and support.” Moving the beautiful copper tresses aside, Erestor admired the ellon’s beauty, still in disbelief that he had been accepted by this man. 

_ Mae, there is more. When I asked you my own question, what would you not want known about yourself, I knew also about your drinking. I confess to you now that the question was asked wondering if you would admit to it. Only you know if you were evading that answer or not. I am not going to ask you because I have no right to. I was the greatest deceiver and withholder of information about myself from my spouses that ever walked Arda. If you are angry with me for baiting you like that...part of me does not know what to say about my behavior. The only thing I am sure about is that it was from a place of love, trying to discern where your heart is with this and how much of a hold alcohol has on you. A very short time ago you were my houseguest and cherished friend and I was concerned for your welfare. Now everything is very different and I must glean much about the man to whom I have spoken vows. Anything you have to say to me, I will listen. I am yours.  _ A meaningful kiss followed the private words.

Maedhros kissed Erestor back, and then said, “So what we really learned is that I am terrible at keeping secrets. When you asked your question earlier, Eressë, no, I was not even thinking about the drinking I have been doing. And I did honestly think you wanted to know about internal fears, and my father, as much as I love him--still tops the list. And...that is probably the root of why I drink. Did you know, that was how he coped with my mother leaving us?” Maedhros looked away, as if he was watching an ancient scene materialize before him. “There were days when he just sat in a chair in the family room and drained the bottle. I was elected to speak with him. I went down one night when my brothers were asleep. I explained our concerns. He studied me the whole time. And I remember what he said. First, he told me…

  
  


_ “You look a lot like your mother. You act like her, too,” said Fëanor. _

_ Maedhros, who had been sitting on the footstool, had his hands folded. “If by that you mean I am offering reason, yes, I suppose I am like her. We all think she will return--and we know you are hurting. This is not the way to solve it.” _

_ Fëanor turned the bottle between his fingers. Then he held it out, but his words were unexpected. “Have a drink with me, son.” _

_ “You...you always told us this was--” _

_ “Fuck what I said before. Do you need me to get you a glass?” _

_ Maedhros sighed and took hold of the bottle. One drink. Just one drink. He lifted it up, his father watching with anticipation. It burned--everything Maedhros had consumed before had been smooth, from beer to whiskey, and never in excess, rarely from a bottle like this. He cleared his throat several times. _

_ “Fire wine does that the first few times. You get used to it.” _

_ “Not sure I want to get used to it. Will you come up to bed? We are worried about you,” emphasized Maedhros as the bottle was taken from him. _

_ “I can sleep when I am dead.” _

_ “Father, please, do not--” _

_ “Why have you and Findekáno not bound yet?” Fëanor took a swig while Maedhros sat silent. “You should marry him.” _

_ “If this is some ploy to spite your brother--” _

_ “HALF-brother.” _

_ Maedhros let out a sigh. “I am not about to get married as a political move.” _

_ “It would not be a political move. Alright, the timing would make it seem that way, but deep down, you love him. He loves you. What are you waiting for?” pressed Fëanor. _

_ “We talked about it, and we are waiting.” _

_ “Waiting for what?” Fëanor drank again, and then held the bottle back out to Maedhros. _

_ Maedhros hesitated, but took the bottle. It went down easier the second time. “We have goals and aspirations that might not match.” _

_ “You seem very compatible.” _

_ “He wants children,” Maedhros said firmly. The bottle was still in his hand, so he drank again. “I think I may also want that, for myself.” _

_ “Ah. I suppose I understand that. I am sorry. I always felt the two of you would eventually be wed. I saw him living here with us.” Fëanor shook his head. “I saw a lot of things being different.” _

_ “Come up to bed. Please. You have not slept in a week,” Maedhros said. _

_ “Need to finish the bottle. Never as good the next day,” said Fëanor as he reached for the bottle. _

_ Maedhros looked at the third that was left. He took a breath, and then downed the rest of the liquid. “Bedtime now?” he asked, hoping he could get his father up before the effects of the alcohol hit him. _

_ Fëanor agreed, and Maedhros escorted him up to his room. He even stood at the doorway while his father changed, and pulled the covers up. As Maedhros went around to cover the starlit gems that provided light to the room, he heard a soft snoring. He shut the door quietly and went to the room he shared with Maglor. _

_ “Did you get him to go to bed?” asked the voice unseen in the darkness. _

_ “I did, but I also drank half a bottle of fire wine,” remarked Maedhros. “Do not let me in the forge tomorrow.” _

_ “You will probably be fine,” said Maglor. “With your size, it would take a lot of fire wine to get you drunk.” _

  
  


“And he was right,” said Maedhros. “So I would stay up with my father, and drink with him, and chase away his demons. It was easier in Formenos--there was a lot less to do there. Before I knew it, I was the one who was looking for him to share a drink with me. There were times I would sit with him, and drink the whole bottle myself. So that is where I am at, and I thank you for your understanding.”

It was Findekáno who spoke once the tale was told. “How did you know I wanted children? I never said that--I do not think I even knew that myself, at the time.”

Maedhros smiled. “Every time we were in the market and a child would run by, you would watch them and worry where their parents were. When little ones buying things came up short in the market, you would slip the vendor a few coins so that they were not sent home disappointed. You showered your niece and your second-cousins with love, support, and gifts. You wanted children--you wanted children more than just about anyone I knew at that time. You were an amazing father, in the time you had with the little ones--that was always a regret I had. I wish I could have protected you--I wish it would have been me killed in that battle, to have given you more years with them. Then you could have been the one to raise Elrond and Elros, too. You know, you always tell me they turned out better than any other children, from the stories you heard and all of your interactions with Elrond--I learned all of that from you.”

Findekáno was sniffling and wiping his eyes. Glorfindel nudged him. “Go on over there. I will still be here when you get back,” he promised. 

Findekáno crawled over to Maedhros and climbed onto his lap, for Erestor temporarily vacated to give space to Findekáno. “Sending them off and staying to fight was the hardest decision I ever had to make.”

“I know, honey. I know. I should never have rushed in--never made you make that decision.” Maedhros placed kisses upon Findekáno’s face, kissing away the tears. “I think that is my biggest regret--taking you away from your children when they were still just babies.”

“How old were they?” wondered Glorfindel aloud.

“Seven, four, and three. Finbor does not really remember him from that time, but Ereinion and Erien do,” explained Maedhros, for Findekáno’s face was buried in a mass of red hair and his shoulders shook as Maedhros rubbed his back.

Glorfindel joined the pile of comfort, and pretty soon, all of them were just snuggled together, with Findekáno at the center.

“I just learned a great deal more than I expected to,” Erestor said, heartbroken and trying to keep that from infusing his words. “I am sorry seems so trite and pathetic. Forgive me, Mae, for somehow believing this was far simpler a thing than it is when I should know better. Your father...in the short time I had with him even in youth I knew the power of his spirit. You never had a chance. No one would have. My picture is a great deal clearer now, even if it comes with sadness for both you and Fin.”

“I wish I could give that time back to you,” whispered Maedhros to Findekáno, but Findekáno shook his head.

“Might not be here now if things changed,” he replied.

Maedhros held Findekáno tighter. “I wish it had not taken so long to get to this place, especially with you.”

“Love you,” came the muffled reply.

With another kiss to Findekáno’s head, Maedhros looked at Glorfindel. “If we are continuing the game, I would direct to you next.”

“Want to keep playing,” came Findekáno’s muffled voice after a hiccup. Then, he tried to jokingly add, “Might get laid again.”

Maedhros smirked and looked back to Glorfindel. “Truth or dare?”

“Uhm...truth,” Glorfindel said. “I need a recovery round.” His face still glowed luxuriantly from all the attention he had just received, and he had his arms around Findekáno’s thigh using it as a pillow.

“Alright. If you learned you were able to carry a child, would you have an interest or desire in doing so?” The question was asked with a great deal of compassion, and was followed with, “That is, it can be from a theoretical standpoint, something of a ‘what if’ nature. If that is too much to answer, I can ask something else. I suppose now I am contemplating the entire topic. It was probably too personal to ask. I apologize.”

“There is no need; I have an answer. Yes.” At once Glorfindel’s eyes filled with moisture; the answer came without hesitation. “Though I have been told I cannot and should not. When Fin makes love to me…” Tears flooded down the fair face. “I always hope.” His hand flew up to cover his mouth, and wracking sobs that caused him to hide his face against Findekáno’s leg tore through his entire body.

Erestor most of all appeared stricken and taken aback. “Oh, Glorfindel,” he whispered, laying an arm over his shoulder.

“Oh, shit…” Findekáno sat up and pulled Glorfindel into his arms. “Why did you not say anything to me? I...shit, I...I do not know if this point in my life I am...well, right now, I am certainly not in a place to contemplate that. As we all know, I can barely take care of myself. I have not given that possibility a chance in my mind, and...oh, fuck.” He held Glorfindel tight. “I just never thought you could, never fathomed you would want that, so I never...there was never a chance before, I have not...I am sorry, Glorfindel, I...I wish I had known. Not that it would have changed my actions these last few weeks, I just do not know if I have a desire for more children. Grandchildren, well, always, but...I will not say never, I am...not at that place right now.”

Gildor joined Findekáno and offered comfort to them both. “There are other people in this house. Uh...none for me, though, thanks--I like the one I have, and also getting them after they are potty trained is fabulous and Gildor is going to shut up now.” He extended his leg and kicked Maedhros and glared.

“I am...sorry. I...asked from a selfish place,” Maedhros said.

Gildor kicked his husband again.

Maedhros gave Gildor a ‘what?’ sort of look. Gildor poked him again with his foot. Maedhros bit his lip. Gildor sighed. “SOMEone else here certainly DOES have an interest in being a father again.”

“But...only if...if the other party wanted, and...if it happens,” stuttered Maedhros. “And...if it was safe...and...there are many considerations.”

“It is not selfish,” Glorfindel spoke brokenly. “Any more than it is for me. Though I can see now I...I am so sorry, Fin. It was wrong of me. I should have told you. Ever since I lost my son…” His face twisted with agony. “How can I not want what I lost? I would gladly embrace you, Maedhros. But...I was cast aside by Faelion because I could not be impregnated. As you can see I have not conceived. It...is probably not possible for me so my willingness and desire really mean not a fucking thing.” He had sat up more by now, and a few final, huge drops splashed on Findekáno’s arm. 

“No one is going to cast you aside,” said Findekáno softly. “You belong here, with us, and we love you, and you are safe.”

“Healers do not always know everything. My mother was told she could not conceive--for those who know the timeline of what happened with our family, remember that Felagund was born first. My parents were just under such pressure, they could not do it. As soon as Felagund was born--” Maedhros snapped his fingers. “The pressure was off, my mother was pregnant not long after. Now, obviously, there are some different circumstances, but--which healers told you this? The same ones who mercilessly cut you open?” questioned Maedhros.

“Uhm…” Glorfindel wiped his eyes. “I...my memories are confused but I think it had to do with, it is not usual to have fathered a son but also be able to carry a child, for those like me. It is one or the other. And Gildor also thought from the way my menstruation was...not really normal, I thought he meant...that something was not entirely right with my womb. Just because someone has one, it does not mean it is healthy to carry a baby. Things can be...wrong. I am sorry, I learned a lot about how animals reproduce but not this stuff. How useful, right?”

“I do not want to belabor this discussion..uh, bad choice of words,” apologized Maedhros. “Have you seen a midwife? Spoken to a healer with--Gildor, I love him, but his knowledge of birthing--”

“Hahaha, yes, pass. Sorry. I know what I know mostly from books. I got through it, but Elrond was always warning me, if I had people in my following who were expecting, it was best to convince them to stay the season in Imladris so that he could tend to their needs. There were a few emergency deliveries on the road, but I had other healers with me in the caravan. I would have been a fool not to,” said Gildor.

For a few moments, no one said anything. “I know this is better discussed later, and I want the game to move on. But there is one thing I want to ask,” Glorfindel said, wiping his face dry. “Need to ask, so I can get some control of my thoughts before they start running away in any given direction. There is no wrong answer. Mae, does this mean that when our time comes – for I believe it will if we are having this conversation and what else has transpired today – that you will want me in that way? Want all of me, and not just what makes me a man?”

Gildor pinched Maedhros when he did not readily speak up. “Tell him or I do.”

Maedhros swatted Gildor’s hand away. “I am just collecting my thoughts, give me a moment,” he scolded Gildor. Maedhros took a moment without looking at anyone, then reached for Glorfindel’s hand. “I would want you to initiate. I am also a little concerned about how large I am--”

“Findekáno is pretty big, too,” interrupted Gildor.

“Yes, we...we established that some weeks ago,” Maedhros agreed. “I mean, overall--I am a large person. I must have a meter or more on you, Glorfindel. I would be very concerned about being on top--but being on the bottom does not mean necessarily being on the receiving end. No matter what we do, if we do anything, again, I do not want to pressure you at all--if it happens, I think I would want you to straddle me, so that I know I am not weighing down on you. I do not possess the flexibility of Findekáno to keep myself elevated in some magical seems like floating whatever the fuck he does way. My dexterity is not great in that way. To follow through to ‘do I want all of you?’, most certainly, I...I gave myself to Findekáno. I never thought I would do that. A lot of things have changed for me lately. A lot of my previous thoughts have been challenged. You have a beautiful, bright spirit. To join with you would be an honor, to whatever degree you deem that we would be able.”

A soft smile graced Glorfindel’s face. “That is the longest Yes I ever heard.” A twinkle was in his eye. “Findekáno’s genitals are the same size as yours, for all practical purposes. We will be fine with some time for you to learn my body. You have already married a wealth of knowledge in that regard. Yes, you are much taller, but that is what being on all fours and lying down is for. Thank you for your answer, it was a very gracious one, and it is time to move this game along. Gildor, truth or dare?”

“Before that,” spoke up Maedhros when it looked like Gildor was about to pinch him again, “there is something else. I probably seem...impulsive, if the past few days have been any indication, but I do not want to rush into something--that is, I would like to properly court you, and I hope that is something you would have an interest in. I know, I am going out of order, I am asking questions when it is not my turn--but this is important to me. Well worth the penalty,” he added before Gildor could open his mouth.

“I was not about to say that,” Gildor pouted. “I thought you were done and I was going to say ‘dare’.”

Glorfindel reached for Maedhros’ hand, and when it was given, turned it so he could kiss the open palm and then press it against his cheek. “Yes, please,” he answered with a hopeful and delighted expression. Gently letting go, he turned to Gildor. “I dare you to do a handstand if Findekáno will agree to help me assist you in doing it if you need help. If you do not know how we will tell you how. You may do this against the wall if you are inexperienced.”

“Really? You just want a handstand? Alllllright.” Gildor left the comfort of the cuddle pile and went over the threshold to where there was space. He not only did a handstand, he walked a few paces on his hands. “Good job me...who is next?” he wondered as he got back onto his feet again and straightened out his clothing--which he was beginning to realize was far more than he really wanted to be wearing.

“Well shit,” Glorfindel frowned. “He upped his game on me. On the other hand, that has so many possibilities,” he grinned. “How long can you stay like that, Inglorion?” He waggled his brows.

“Oh, that was about it for me,” replied Gildor. “You were hoping I was going to forfeit and take a penalty, eh? Hoping for a little of this, love?” Gildor swayed seductively as he eased up the edge of his tunic, giving Glorfindel a smouldering look. He eventually turned around, continuing to shimmy (which earned a whistle from Maedhros), until he looked over his shoulder, blew a kiss, and lifted the garment over his head. He swung it around and flung it into the circle. It landed on Erestor’s leg. “Is that what you had in mind?” he asked in a low voice.

“Gildor, dear, I do love you but there are times you focus on but one corner of the canvas,” Glorfindel tut-tutted. “No, you are not grasping the geometry of the thing at all. My height. Your handstand, complete with throbbing hard-on. Let us add in that your legs are spread apart somewhat, because I like the sound of that. Perhaps there is a smooth-barked tree involved, a thick post, or even Maedhros,” he mused, “but I digress, the point is that my lovely lips are just at the perfect height to surround your cock, and now think of the angle, so perfect for me to rock back and forth on the balls of my feet, and my hands are still free to do all sorts of naughty things if you can just hold that position for awhile...mmmmm it really does sound so incredibly yummy, and I am thinking how deeply I can get you down my throat and how hard I can suckle being able to stand like that...yes, that was what I had in mind, my beautiful wildcat. Though, no one shakes it quite like you do.” He blew a kiss back and winked.

“Oh, sugarpuff, that sounds sinfully sexy, for about three minutes. And then I will have a raging headache and a bloody nose,” said Gildor, his bottom lip protruding comically. “Now, if you want to do sensual handstand gymnastics with someone…” Gildor pointed repeatedly at Findekáno.

Findekáno flipped his hair over his shoulder and said, “I have participated in and won several handstand competitions. I can even balance one-handed, so that would give you the bonus of being fondled by me at the same time.”

“I can also, remarkably, do a handstand with one hand...is it handstand or hand stand if only one hand?” questioned Maedhros.

“Handstand. Either way,” said Findekáno.

“Anyhow--I can also do that, but I fear with my height and your height, all that would get us is you wearing my dick as a hat,” said Maedhros to the laughter of the others. 

Glorfindel looked down and blushed. “Is it wrong of me to want to offer to all three of you, realizing that only my husband is likely to actually enjoy it past a few seconds? There are probably other ways too...furniture...something. No one is like my Fin, though,” he said adoringly, gazing into the golden eyes, unaware that a rosy flush spread across his chest as he spoke.

Erestor had continued to observe all of this, amazed in some ways.  _ I hope you realize,  _ he privately told Maedhros,  _ that it has been a very long time since I have seen him this unguarded. Speaking his heart this freely. All this has been hidden for some time now and it crept up so subtly that I did not see it. Glorfindel makes himself very easy to overlook, to his own detriment. He is so selfless, and eager to give, and the difficulties for Káno have been a strain on all of us. And I have not been perfect and neither has he but we have done our best. I am certainly paying attention right now. _

_ This is probably the least guarded any of us have been--no one is trying to impress anyone or hide anything, and it is very beautiful and comfortable. Well, I suppose I was hiding the drinking, but it was such a small thought in my mind that I did not think of it in the same way as other things. This is turning out better than I could have imagined. I will admit, though...I am...plotting something. Another self-indulgence. Once I figure out the how of it, I may need to employ your assistance, if you are willing to come undone for, shall we say, a scientific experiment.  _ But Maedhros said no more of this, and reminded Gildor it was his turn again to ask, and Gildor chose Erestor, giving Erestor no time to question Maedhros of his motives.

Sighing deeply, Erestor smiled at his one time nemesis turned lover. “Truth.” He spoke with a shake of his head, cascading his satin hair off his shoulders to pool on the floor. In the low light, the bluish reflections lent him an extremely exotic air.

“When, not if, because I am going to be optimistic--do you want to give or receive the first time we make love?” asked Gildor as he settled down beside Erestor and began to comb his fingers through the glorious dark hair.

“Wait...what?” Erestor’s face descended into total confusion. “I mean, the answer is that I would like to give to you but...but...that is not only because I have dreamed about your body and because I know it would please you but also because I did not believe there was a choice. I thought...I thought from the things you have said that you refused to…” he trailed off, now overwhelmed by doubt as well as a terrible fear of making mistakes. His body began to tremble. “I hope that would please you?” he changed the subject entirely.

“It would please me very much--though you and I have long had a sort of power struggle, shall we say? There might be something exciting about the alternative as well,” admitted Gildor. “I was curious about your thoughts--and, to be honest, unlike Maedhros, I am impatient,” he said shamelessly.

“You will find that I will yield to you, Gildor. I will still tease and banter and be fun. I will learn what you like and make every effort to give what you enjoy. But unless you find it offensive, or unless it is a question of our collective safety, as a generality my battles with you are over with because I have conceded.”

“And if you are just talking about things from a sexual standpoint,” spoke up Glorfindel, “Erestor spent a long time asserting a dominant side that he had to cultivate. I still remember one night coming into the room and he had already tied himself to the bedposts and I was thinking, shit, what is all this? Except it was one of the first ‘this seems accurate’ moments, the way he was enjoying himself.”

“Did I mention...no, I do not think so,” mused Maedhros. “I have this idea for something I want to make. I still have to work out dimensions for it, but something that I can use, an attachment if you will, that would allow me to have intercourse with both of you at the same time. That is, if--”

“Yes,” said Gildor and Erestor almost simultaneously.

“Right, so, that should be my first project once I have the forge up and running,” said Maedhros.

“And that sounds like, starting tomorrow, my goal is to get a forge set up on the property,” said Gildor.

“Do you need help with that?” Glorfindel asked hopefully. “I can do basic masonry.”

“My upholstery knowledge includes carpentry basics,” Findekáno reminded the others. “Not that I need whatever this is that Maedhros is talking about, but if this gets us closer to that spanking gadget that keeps being brought up, I want to make sure I help and do my part,” he said very seriously.

“Mmmmmm,” Erestor whined. “Is anyone actually going to make that, or is it just the running gag?”

Blinking, Glorfindel stared at him. “Well, it could be made, but this requires some real input. I mean you are talking about a device that is going to mechanically pound someone’s ass cheeks, this cannot be a haphazard construct,” he opined.

“That is right--we have a true inventor among us!” Gildor flailed excitedly. “I do not want to lose the thread of the game, but I really want us to have a family meeting about the ass master in the near future.”

“Do we have to call it that?” asked Findekáno.

“Not if you come up with a better name,” challenged Gildor.

“Sass master,” Glorfindel glared, crossing his arms. “There is a child in the house who does not need to inadvertently overhear the other. Which he will, because he exists.”

“Ooooh...right...we should table this for now,” suggested Gildor. “Whose turn is it?”

“Fin, truth or dare?” Erestor asked.

“Um…” Findekáno twisted his mouth slightly. “Can I say surprise me?”

“Okay. A while ago you said something about maybe getting laid again. I watched you and Glorfindel while an intoxicating redhead worked a toy in me but would not let me touch myself and here I still sit at his mercy. I thought of you inside of me. I thought of Mae inside of me. And now I would like to know what you want, or if you want anything at all.”

“I never said you could not touch yourself--I would never be so cruel,” said Maedhros, and he pulled Erestor into a position so that both were sitting with legs stretched out forward. Maedhros reached around and rubbed the pendulous scrotum of his partner and looked up at Findekáno. “You know, if you did that handstand thing Glorfindel was describing, I could bend him at the waist just slightly. You fill him on one end, and I can take care of the rest.”

“Or the other way around,” contemplated Findekáno. “I was not expecting to be this horny today. Having you do the handstand might match heights a little better in this case.”

Erestor considered both of them, assessing Maedhros’ probable physical fitness and the overall situation. “I know what I want. Maedhros standing just the normal way, and Fin handed the bottle of oil. I am going to indulge myself, and then when he wants to so is he...and then so are you,” he gazed up while petting the red hair. “If you can be teased that long, anyway,” he added coyly to Maedhros.

“I have no idea what is going on, but I think I am going to like it,” said Maedhros as Findekáno grabbed the bottle of oil.

“Stand up, big boy,” Erestor demanded cheekily, moving off of his lap, using Findekáno’s shoulder as a support to stand as well.

Glorfindel transfered over to Gildor, and snuggled up to him. “This is gonna be good.” One leg wrapped over Gildor’s, rubbing here and there as the foot and toes tested out where they most wanted to find a final resting place. The free hand traced up and down from belly button to the root of Gildor’s penis, while the amused owner of all this anatomy noticed the blond beauty was innocently oblivious. Rolling his eyes, he kissed the golden head and elected to enjoy the tantalizing sensations.

By now Erestor had found his perfect footing and stance; feet comfortably apart and bent at the hips, his ass (still with toy) wiggled enticingly while with mouth alone he began lavishing attention on Maedhros’ rapidly growing erection. Both hands were braced on his lover’s pelvis and every half minute (at least) a sweep of his head brought the mass of silken hair arcing to the other side of his body. The whole of his form undulated during fellatio so that much about it was a dancelike performance and Findekáno the intended audience. At their flank, he watched raptly, already hard. Erestor had barely begun the challenge of how much of Mae he could take into his mouth when he felt the toy removed, replaced by questing fingers and copious oil. A deep moan tore out of him; those vibrations traveled straight down the large shaft to Maedhros’ innermost places.

“And to think, at one time, if you put a penis near his mouth he would slap you for it,” mused Gildor.

“I certainly enjoy Erestor’s newfound sexual freedom,” agreed Glorfindel. 

“He threatened me once he would bite it off,” recalled Gildor.

Glorfindel considered, and asked, “Did you do something dumb, like wake him up by wiggling it by his nose?”

“No,” Gildor said defensively. “I was using it to stroke his cheek.”

“Mmm…” Glorfindel tilted his head. “I might threaten to bite it off if you did that to me.”

“Fair,” replied Gildor.

“For the record, a few nice rubs, and finding a way to get my dick in your ass or the other way around are extremely acceptable. A little lube on the target zone can only help your cause, you already know I am a very sound sleeper, and if you really are ok with taking instead of being taken, darling, my ass is always at your service...I mean, if we take that step...which I think we will,” he blushed. “Ress can be really exhausted,” he explained, suddenly becoming serious. “He loves growing so much food for us but doing it...he is so often literally asleep on his feet. I do not wake him for sex unless it is vacation or something. He needs to rest.”

“I think I proved in my time here that I know something about planting and harvesting. Erestor is going to have a new job to concentrate on, and I will be here quite a bit, no matter how I set up my practice. I do not anticipate a flood of clients, and I am committed to raising a child. Eruglar can help, and honestly, it is good for a child to learn how food grows and where our meals come from. I think there are many lessons I can come up with in the garden, and that will take pressure off of Erestor,” said Gildor. “However, I am open to you and I advancing our relationship, and getting back on the course it once was. I will make a note that I am not to give you loving nudges on your cheek with my penis,” he said in an almost too serious tone.

An indescribable noise escaped Glorfindel. “I love you,” he beamed, exuding cheer.

“Alright, what even was that sound?” Gildor asked, booping him on the nose.

“A snortle, of course.”

“Snortle?”

“Yes, a snortle. Snort and a chortle all at once. What, are they total barbarians on the mainland now?” Glorfindel pushed back.

“Why do I think you are fucking with me?” Gildor inquired in precise, punctuated tones that all but screamed  _ bullshit. _

The golden eyebrows arched. “Honey, I may lack length, but when I am fucking with you, you are going to know about it. That much I promise you.”

A corner of Gildor’s mouth turned up. “Where was this side to you in Rivendell? Because I like it.”

“A lot of my life was about wanting love and approval because I never really had either.I do not know what could have happened with Faelion in Gondolin in another lifetime. That was the first time I loved and felt loved in return but it was over before it could begin. There were people who found me useful. Despite the problems I do believe Erestor loved me and I name him my first real love. In that security these parts of me found the courage to come out. They were there, I think, but I did not have your strength. I was doomed because in you I hoped to find that person who truly wanted me as a whole person. My neediness was too great, there was no balance. It is why I love you so much for what you are giving Eruglar. He will not be me. I am what happens when a child is unloved. I keep giving you rambling answers to simple questions,” he rolled his eyes. “So it goes,” he chuckled.

Gildor snuggled Glorfindel close, their attention caught by the sounds not far away. “Speaking of Eruglar, I am so glad my parents opted to keep him out of here for a while. I feel like this is a sort of ‘get most of it out’ all together, because it may be a little while until all five of us can be together in this manner for a while. Unless I get really good at bribing Asfaloth.”

“There is after his bedtime, and there will be some occasional chances to couple off. Erestor and I were very firm about this – when we went to bed we gave our kids about an hour. Eruglar should be taught that unless he is in pain, afraid, or really in need, that he is not to knock on that door if it is closed with our sign hanging on it. And that there will be a loss of privileges if he disturbs us for things like, I cannot sleep, I am thirsty, tell me a story or, that sort of thing. Because we need private time too. But you are right in that life stops being one long romantic day. You may find you do not care. We elves have an innate desire to care for our children and at least for me? The want of the other was not as strong. Thankfully,” he giggled.

“Kids can come get me,” called out Findekáno, obviously listening despite other activities. “Thirst, insomnia, storytime--”

“Need to...need to work a compromise,” Maedhros barely managed between groans.

“The needs of children are important,” continued Findekáno. “I slept in the nursery most nights so that they did not need to come find me. I was already right there.”

“This is not a topic for fucking, that is an order,” Glorfindel insisted. “Fin, love, how can you possibly be thinking of anything but how deeply buried you are in that sensual creature that right now is barely keeping his feet, relishing every second that you have him? He is remembering the day you bonded with him…”

“Glorfindel!” Erestor protested, stopping his attentions to Maedhros for a moment. “Can a man have a little privacy?”

“No,” the blond laughed, “not when you look like you do. Ress, you wear that veil but only we know what it actually means for the rest of the world. You are one of Varda’s stars. One look at you and still I get rock hard.”

Behind him, Erestor became aware of far more guttural sounds, felt a more vigorous effort, and thought it might mean that Fin had fallen victim to the verbal overtures. Discussion of parenting ceased, and the trio returned to their activities, with Maedhros appreciatively massaging the back of Erestor’s head and his neck.

_ Let me be between you,  _ Erestor told Maedhros.  _ Let him keep on with me while he kisses you. I want to share in that way, if I may? _

Maedhros guided Erestor up slowly, giving Findekáno warning and time to change his angle; plus Erestor raised up on his toes while spreading his legs more though he need not have worried; in seconds he felt the powerful grip controlling his hips while Maedhros managed his chest. A little adjusting and arranging took place but in impressively short order Erestor was locked between the two men; Maedhros dominating the kissing while Erestor’s body received Fin’s lust. Head tossed back, the line of his neck silhouetted by glossy hair – the trio were lost to their mounting ecstasy.

“Damn,” Gildor whispered, relieved Glorfindel was fondling him and of course he returned the favor.

Findekáno trembled and released, shouting into Maedhros’ mouth while Erestor held on to each of their shoulders, wide-eyed, but showed no signs of reaching climax himself. If anything, he seemed relieved. His chest heaved; there had been some kind of effort. Erestor leaned his forehead against Maedhros, unsatisfied but also able to save himself for later tonight if his husband preferred.

“Let us see if you can do a handstand,” decided Maedhros. Findekáno had just backed up, and Maedhros began to conduct the situation. With his hands on Erestor’s hips, he whispered for him to lean back and trust in Findekáno’s ability to support and guide his body into place. Erestor soon found himself flipped so that his hands were resting on the floor and he saw Findekáno’s legs in his field of vision. Maedhros’ powerful arms were holding his legs, and Erestor groaned as he felt the tip of Maedhros’ erection teasing his entrance. “Now, I just need to find the right angle…”

Thinking it possibly helpful, Erestor did what he could to rotate his hips outward trying to spread himself, trembling with the desire to be penetrated by his husband. Used by him, enjoyed. Unable to hold still, he writhed just a little, hoping to find and catch the penis by some stroke of luck.

“Impatient, are you?” The silken depth of Maedhros’ voice caused Erestor to shiver and moan. “You shall have your fill, my love.” Maedhros plunged into Erestor, using his strength to yank Erestor back. There was desire and great need in Maedhros’ movements. They were wild and almost reckless as he practically slammed their bodies together. Findekáno, still standing before the pair, threaded his fingers behind Maedhros’ neck and returned to kissing him. His proximately brought his groin in alignment with Erestor’s cock, and he rubbed against the stiff rod that Erestor begged to have touched.

Very soon Erestor’s noises were one cry after another, each indiscernible from pleasure or pain though he clearly did not want them to stop as his passion built. After the early cries, the words changed to “Yes, Maedhros”, plain old Maedhros, “just like that Maedhros”, and when matters were clearly spiralling toward a grand finale, “More, Master! Please, more!” 

Glorfindel wondered, at least somewhat, if the totality of the excitement had carried his mate clean out of his head. Erestor liked it rough, but he would hurt tomorrow from this.

Maedhros delivered, both as mate and master. In the end, he was pounding into Erestor, had brought him back up so that Erestor could cling to him while he effortlessly lifted him up and nearly off of his solid cock before pulling him back down again with audible force. When Maedhros was close to release, he kept one arm around Erestor and wedged his other hand between them, holding onto Erestor’s throbbing erection to squeeze it while working his thumb back and forth over the head, vibrating the edge of his digit in the moist slit. “Your Master commands you to come for him,” he growled.

_ Please Master – pull on my nipples. Tug, twist. Then my body has no choice but to obey you.  _ Erestor’s breaths came in ragged inhalations

With no hands left, Maedhros dipped Erestor back slightly and then lowered his head and took the first one he could latch onto between his teeth. He bit and rolled it with his tongue across his incisors, and bent his head as he had a grip on it. His tongue traced a path to the other, and this one he held between his teeth and pulled on until he lost grip, only to dive in again and take firmer hold with his teeth. All the time, he did not let up on touching Erestor, nor did he stop rocking their bodies together.

The familiar tension rose immediately in Erestor’s groin with such force and exploded from him in a long, wailing cry. He had needed this, so much, since they had married and he would need it many times more before he could manage to settle down somewhat. Still his seed flowed, purging him of the many difficult thoughts that had piled on today. Then emptied at last, he stilled in his lover’s arms.

**Author's Note:**

> Not enough Bunniverse for you on AO3? Drop by Discord's hottest new nightclub, Bunniverse. This club has everything -- purple plot bunnies, Elves who dress like peacocks, mixed drinks named after Feanor’s bad decisions, a guy named Teleporno who thinks he’s the bouncer but is just there for people coming in read his nametag. Fall down the purple rabbit hole at https://discord.gg/CHqptmUnTp


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